Darkness Within
by GratuitousViolets
Summary: Sequel to "Magnetic Attraction". Months after her evolution, Rogue is suffering with depression and constant fear of her new powers, hiding from the world with her friends fearing for her life and sanity, while Remy LeBeau lies comatose after Rogue's dangerous kiss.
1. Part 1

**DARKNESS WITHIN**

**Part One**

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*** Authors Note: this is the follow up to "Magnetic Attraction". Expect there to be themes of suicide, sex, depression, etc. I'm not sure how frequently the story will be updated as got a lot of personal stuff going on and another story ("I Assassin") running simultaneously, but I thought I'd try to run two at once and see how I go. Hopefully everyone likes this.

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_ The girl known only as Rogue stared across an ocean of black and saw the floating bodies of her friends, of the people she'd once held as close as family. Their limp bodies bobbed in the water, some disappearing to drop into the murky depths below. Some stayed afloat, pale lifeless faces pointed upwards to meet a grey sun._

_ Each of them she touched, each of them she'd absorbed, each of them were part of her now, and all that was left of them were the shells floating in a sea of her own creation._

_ It went on for miles, endless. Bodies of people she didn't even recognise, yet understood their deaths had been her fault. On a beach of wet red sand a body washed ashore, and the beating of the waves turned him over so that he flopped onto his back, pale yet beautiful almost angelic face staring up lifelessly at her with eyes that no longer saw her._

_ Those eyes were black and red_.

Rogue's breath caught in her throat as she sat up straight in bed, clutching her covers tightly to her chest. Her lungs seemed incapable of working. Gasping for air, heart seeming to skip beat upon beat. She tried to catch her breath and couldn't, her throat tightened, her hands shook, fingers numb as she tried to clutch at the bed covers.

Kitty Pryde, who had been fast asleep in the bed across the room shot up, hair hanging every which way as she bolted across the room bleary eyed, grabbing the paper bag from where it had blown off Rogue's night stand during the night. She forced it to Rogue's mouth, "Breathe!"

Rogue tried to fight her off, the girl's skin was so bare, in that tiny pyjama tanktop, her arms so nude, her neck so exposed, there were so many things that could go wrong. Rogue tried to push her away delicately, her inhuman strength so much of a risk to anyone who tried to come near her now. The girl forced herself to hold fast, the paper bag still near Rogue's face.

"Breathe!" Kitty reiterated.

After a moment of realising where she was and what was going on, Rogue started breathing into the paper bag, in and out, in and out, the gasping loud, her face tingling like tiny explosions were being set off all over her cheeks.

"That's it..." soothed Kitty, her voice quiet, calm. "In and out..."

It took minutes before the hyperventilation begun to slow enough for Rogue to feel as if she could catch her breath again. And finally, she lowered the bag, her body weak with the exertion. She flopped backwards into her pillows, wiping her sweating forehead with the cotton gloves she'd worn to bed; they were duct taped securely to the long sleeves of her pyjama top. There would be no accidents when she slept. There _could never_ be any accidents. She just couldn't permit it.

Kitty sat on the edge of the bed, "that's the third time this week," she admitted softly as she leaned over to switch on the bedside lamp.

Rogue closed her eyes, breathing slowing considerably, she sighed in relief as she finally felt her body relaxing again. She couldn't respond to the revelation of this, she only knew it to be truth. It was the third time this week she'd awakened to a panic attack, the third time in four nights. The _eighth _panic attack she'd had this week if she counted the ones she hadn't had after waking up from a nightmare.

"You need me to get the Professor?" asked Kitty.

Shaking her head, Rogue murmured, "No. Ah'm all right now..." a lie, of course. Rogue wasn't all right. She would _never _be all right again. She didn't want the Professor being awakened, and having drag himself into his wheelchair to get all the way up here in that small hidden elevator just to tell her that things would be fine and this was normal. She'd gone through too much of this in the past three months already. She rubbed her head, there was a throbbing behind her eyes, just as there always was when there was a threat of tears.

"You need anything?" asked Kitty, her expression anxious. Rogue had noticed in the past few months the girl seemed to have developed a rather permanent worried expression that seemed to grow ever worse whenever these 'episodes' occurred.

"Ah'm fine...really," Rogue rolled over onto her side to face the window, her head swimming with anxiety and memories of the nightmare. It always ended the same way, Remy's dead eyes were always what awakened her from these dreadful dreams.

Kitty gently placed her hand on Rogue's side, "you sure?"

"Don't," Rogue pleaded. Even with the two pyjama tops she'd taken to wearing since the night of her evolution three months ago, even with the sleeves and ankles duct-taped to gloves and socks, even with the blankets covering her, Rogue still felt unsafe around anyone, she felt _them _unsafe around her. Whenever anyone went to touch her, she stiffened, and felt the same dread she had the night Remy had almost died after kissing her.

Kitty gave a deep sigh, she removed her hand, "Rogue...you need to get over this..."

_Don't tell me what Ah need,_ Rogue thought miserably as the tears spilled onto her pillow out of sight of her room-mate.

After switching off the light, Kitty moved back to her own bed, and Rogue heard the frustrated sounds of the girl trying to get comfortable, guilt ate at Rogue knowing Kitty had two hours to sleep before the Danger Room training session, and then a hard day at school, several tests to take. Woken up at three thirty in the morning was _not_ what this girl needed right now. Rogue remembered trying to tackle life with barely any sleep and how hard it had been.

_And then Ah dropped out,_ she thought miserably as she pulled the pillow over her head trying to shut out the world. Her dropping out of Bayville Community College had seemed like the only option to take when her world had fallen apart after the evolution had both failed and succeeded simultaneously turning her into a human wrecking ball with the powers of flight. She'd expected both Logan and Professor Xavier to fight her on the subject, but even in the end they both had seen that there were too many _new_ dangers if Rogue should continue her education there. There were too many students at risk, and Rogue couldn't afford any others being hurt.

For twelve weeks straight she'd confined herself to her bedroom, only leaving to go to the bathroom or to shower. She hadn't left the mansion since the night she'd gotten home following her evolution. She hadn't been _downstairs_ since either.

Inside, she seemed to physically ache with the emotional pain of the actions that had led to the current state of her life. Inside her heart bled for the current state of Remy LeBeau's life, or lack of it. He had lain comatose for three months with little to no change to his condition.

Every day she would tell herself that it was her fault, every day she would tell herself that her guilt was deserved, and every day she would tell herself she deserved to die.

However...it seemed that dying was not something she was remotely capable of thanks to her new found mutant powers. A new fantastic and inconvenient invulnerability made her near practically immortal. Nothing seemed capable of killing her, as far as she could fathom. The first night upon her return home, she had tried to slit her wrists only to find her skin impenetrable. The second night, in an act of desperation she had taken a hair-dryer into a shower with her, and this had not ended well, only sending the mansion into a complete state of darkness when the power blew and leaving what was left of her chopped hair frizzy for weeks; it had certainly hurt but hadn't worked the way she'd hoped. Hanging herself with Kitty's ethernet cable hadn't worked either, as the thing had only snapped when she'd started flailing. She'd even tried choking herself with a belt attached to the coat hanger on the top of her door, but the the door had only come from the hinges.

Unfortunately for Rogue, her desperation to off herself those first few times meant she was now on high alert with the other inhabitants of the mansion. No sharp objects allowed in the room any more, no laces, no belts, no Ethernet cables (as if they had a chance), and definitely no pills. Every headache had to be endured without aspirin and every menstrual cramp had to be endured without painkillers unless the appropriate medication was administered and _taken in front of_ one of her instructors.

Constant supervision.

She only had herself to blame.

The Professor had tried to counsel her, as had Hank, and when both had failed, the Professor had brought in two trained psychiatrists, who had little luck in getting her to open up about her feelings or how guilty she felt about what had happened to her and Remy. Both psychiatrists wanted to medicate her, and she didn't want to be medicated. She felt she didn't _deserve_ to be medicated and that this condition was _not _something that could be medicated. Now she understood why Wanda had suffered all these years.

Constant supervision was a curse now, perhaps a fitting punishment; people coming into her room uninvited constantly even without knocking, the door always being left open during the day now as was the rules. When she went for her showers, she had to have a 'shower buddy' to supervise and make sure she didn't try to harm herself. Bathrooms were no longer allowed locks (much to everyone's distress). Even when she _ate,_ she had to have someone in the room with her, whether it an instructor or another student, to ensure that she wasn't trying to choke herself with her food, wasn't trying to cut herself with plastic knives and forks.

She thought the reactions a bit extreme. Being on constant suicide watch was a drag and in her opinion, completely unnecessary. She'd given up all hope of being able to off herself in the first few weeks after realising nothing worked or was likely to. She was now far more powerful than she could have imagined. No one could hurt her...not even _herself._

It was only her heart and soul that were capable of feeling the _real_ pain now. And those bled and ached and felt more bruised than a ripe peach that had rolled down a flight of stairs. And that feeling was all she had now, as she lay there.

Not being able to get back to sleep after her panic attack, she reached over to pick up her book from the nightstand and she opened it up at where she'd left it. She'd read the book twice now but she didn't even like the damn story; it was all she had in the way of literature for the moment. Kitty Pryde had been making library trips for her every week, and the girl had very poor taste in reading material. Romance novels were not what Rogue wanted to read, they only reminded her of the relationships she'd now never have, of the love she'd never have again, of the man she'd put into a coma who lay two floors below.

Rogue wondered if Remy still looked the same, or if after three months he'd begun to lose weight and look frail like the people in those documentaries on television that she'd seen who'd remained in coma for years. Those people always withered away to shadows of themselves and it made her ache to think of Remy in that same state.

Every now and then she reminded herself she could leave her room at any time and go to see him. She had free reign to do so, but in the end she refused even herself.

The less danger she put him in, the better. She'd already ruined his life enough. Staying far away from him was the only thing she could do to guarantee he was harmed no further.

For a few hours she read, until just as she was almost close to dozing off she felt the familiar dull ache of onset cramps and had to rush to the bathroom just in time to find herself spotting. Her period was the last thing she needed right now, especially with the heavy bleeding she'd begun experiencing since Remy had partially ruptured her hymen months ago. Now, her periods came in torrents, much worse than they ever had before; if it was a coincidence or not, she was unable to say. She'd never had enough confidence to ask anyone if it was a possibility, far too afraid to leave the house to go to a doctor, and she'd been too afraid to look it up online, as every time she touched electrical equipment she seemed to break it with her brutish strength. It was a struggle enough to attempt to read hardback books without tearing them up.

_Period, great. Another week of having to rely on Jean and Kitty to buy my tampons. _

It was humiliating having to rely on others to get the things she needed. Deodorant was one thing, but when it came to intimate products like tampons, or panty-liners, she absolutely loathed having to beg Jean or Kitty, or even Ororo Munro if they would possibly get her these things if they went out.

_If you could stop breakin' stuff all the time, you could order the stuff online,_ she told herself irritably as she carefully got back into bed. The bed, so far, had been the one thing in her room she'd managed to avoid breaking. Lamps, televisions, her iPod, her phone, even a laptop that had belonged to Kitty Pryde. It had been an easy error, it was hard to gauge her strength, and even the most delicate of touches were sometimes enough to snap her toothbrush, or bend the spine of a hardback book effortlessly.

These new powers were making life near impossible, and that was why she had to shut herself off from everyone else. She'd accidentally hurt Logan once, left him bruised for two days afterwards, and if solid wood dressers and thick floorboards could be snapped easily without effort, how easy would it be to snap a neck? A spine?

_Ah'm a danger to anyone who comes near me,_ she had told herself again and again. The best she _could_ do was try to contain it. The best place right now for her _was_ the institute. Becoming a recluse was the only way to guarantee everyone was safe. No chances could be taken.

When five thirty am arrived, Rogue still hadn't slept, and instead was curled up feeling the dull throbbing of her cramps. She watched as Kitty crossed the room to retrieve her uniform from the closet. Early morning training session, the girl looked as if she had barely slept, and Rogue was aware of how much she had to blame herself for that. Three nights this week, she'd awakened the girl with her anxiety attacks.

_Ah could always ask for my own room, but they'd never let me be on my own now after the things Ah've done. Too many unsuccessful attempts at snuffin' myself...they know better. They're determined to make sure Ah'm never alone. _

_ "_You didn't get back to sleep?" asked Kitty as she turned her back to undress.

Rogue sighed, "Ah nearly did. But then _the curse_ started, and that was that..." she pulled her knees to her stomach.

"It's another bad one?" Kitty looked over her bare shoulder curiously.

"It's gearin' up to be. Things have never been quite right down there since...since..." she faltered. She hadn't told Kitty about the incident in the car. She'd never told anyone, and only _Wanda _had ever been remotely perceptive of it.

"Since...you and Remy started fooling around?" Kitty asked carefully.

Rogue supposed it was only natural Kitty was bound to ask eventually. She'd alluded to the fact only the night before her evolution happened. She was surprised that it had taken this long for Kitty to ask. It should have been easy to speak to another girl about it, but instead, Rogue couldn't get the words out, and so her eyes fell to the floor, her lips clamped shut.

"Have...you maybe thought about going to a doctor about it?" Kitty asked quietly.

"Ah can't," Rogue sat up slowly, she swept her hair from her face frustratedly, feeling the tangled side of it that she hadn't chopped off in anger months ago. Kitty had done her best to try to make the mess into a style, by feathering in the hair as finely as the could to one side. She hadn't seen it since the morning after her evolution, when in fury she'd smashed the mirror with her bare fists and tried to cut herself with the glass. Now, there were no mirrors in the room, and she hadn't wanted any. She didn't want to look at herself ever again. She couldn't stand the thought of ever seeing the girl in the mirror who had ruined her life, and ruined the life of another.

"Rogue, if something is wrong with your periods then you need to go to a doctor...something could be _seriously _wrong. Your powers might have not been the only thing affected by that thing-"

"Ah can't go to a doctor right now, you know that...besides, what does it matter?" she asked, she pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, "Ah'm _fucked_."

Kitty gave a frustrated sigh as she pulled on her uniform quickly and zipped it up. She sat on the floor to haul on her boots. She was eager to avoid the argument at this time of the morning, Rogue could tell. She couldn't blame the girl. These days she could tell Kitty was reluctant to spend time in the room and at the same time stuck with that guilt of knowing she had to sacrifice time in the name of friendship and what the instructors asked of her contribution to the 'suicide watch'. "You need me to bring anything home?" she asked after a moment of silence between them.

"Tampons," Rogue replied quietly, staring down at her bed covers.

Giving a nod, Kitty hastily left the room, making sure the door was open wide before exiting. Rogue lay back down and attempted to fall asleep. For hours she lay there, under the covers, her mind alert. She heard every sound in the mansion as students awoke, rushing to get ready for training; bathroom arguments ensued, the running up and down stairs, trying to locate missing boots and trying to wake others up in time.

Just after the noise seem to have died down enough for Rogue to start to feel sleepy, it seemed to begin again. The training sessions had clearly ended, and the chaos ensued again as the bathroom arguments restarted, who was getting the first showers to get ready for school, lost homework sought after, someone yelling at Bobby Drake for leaving a melting trail of ice in the hall.

Rogue covered her head with the pillow, and drowned out the sounds as much as she could, aware of the brief moments when Kitty came into change, and then left again for school. Just as Rogue was sure she was almost about to fall asleep, she heard the heavy footsteps of Logan, his adamantium skeleton weighed him down and made each footstep a definite _thump _that seemed to shake the heard him walk through the door – which was _still _open. The rule of being in a room alone with a closed door was never going to change now.

"Wake up," said Logan gruffly, she felt him sit on the edge of her bed, and when he always did so the mattress buckled, making her roll slightly to one side.

"Go away," she pleaded in a muffled tone, head under pillow.

"You gotta eat."

"Ah'm not hungry," she responded.

"Too bad," came Logan's reaction, and he yanked the pillow from her head and tossed it aside, "come on."

Rogue felt the sun burn her eyes, Kitty had left the drapes open, and a hard beam of light cut across the room as if with intent to blind her. She shielded her eyes as she sat up weakly, turning to look at Logan who was sitting at the edge of her bed with a tray. Toast on a _plastic plate_, cereal in a _plastic_ _bowl_, a _plastic cup_ of orange juice, even the spoon to eat her cereal with was_ plastic_.

_Ah'm sick of eatin' with picnic-wear, _she thought miserably as Logan placed the tray upon her lap. He sat there, waiting. It was another one of the rules. He had to sit and wait for her to eat.

With her flimsy plastic spoon, she pushed around the now soggy cornflakes in the ridiculous lime-green plastic bowl, and she despaired. She _wasn't_ hungry.

"_Eat,_" said Logan warningly.

Rogue gave a deep sigh and picked a slice of toast up and bit off the tiniest corner, chewing carefully, her eyes never meeting with Logan's.

"You look tired," said Logan.

"You woke me up," she lied. She supposed she couldn't be technically awakened until she'd been to _sleep_.

"You know the rules, 9am, you eat breakfast regardless if you sleep or not," he reached over to her nightstand curiously to pick up the book she was reading, and he flicked through it. He stopped a page, his eyes roving over the paragraphs, his brow knitting into a frown. "_She put her hand on his throbbing sword and said 'sheath yourself within me, sir'," _he read from the book,he coughed. "What...the...? Is this _porn_ or something?"

"Don't ask me, Kitty picked that," Rogue picked a piece of the crust away from her toast, no intention of eating it. "You should check out chapter nineteen, that's the chapter where three burly pirates use their cannons to conquer her valley."

"Trash," said Logan, rolling his eyes at the novel, he shut it and dropped it back onto the nightstand, making a face. "Kitty said you had another panic attack last night."

_Why does she always have to rat me out?!_ Rogue wondered. Forcing herself to maintain a rather nonchalant expression, Rogue gave a shrug, she took another tiny bite of toast just so that he wouldn't complain.

"Another bad dream?"

"Ah don't remember," she lied. Actually she remembered _far _too well. She always remembered. That was the problem.

"How about a walk today?"

He asked this every day and every day her answer was the same. She decided to not respond this time.

Logan persisted. "Nice crisp morning, sun is out, sky is blue. Be a good day to be out."

"No," refused Rogue. She couldn't. She hadn't been out there since the day her evolution had been completed. She never intended to go out there again.

"You won't be able to hurt anyone out there, kid. Just us...if you like I'll walk far away...so you feel safe..."

_While you keep an eye on me at all times so you can be sure Ah'm not gonna be able to run away or hurl myself off the cliffs,_ Rogue thought bitterly. _"No..._Ah don't feel like it."

Logan gave a deep sigh, "Rogue...don't you think it's time you stopped this now?"

She'd known it was coming. It came every so often, every other week. The same lines. _You're wasting your life, you have so much still to live for, you're an incredible person who has the whole world in front of you._

But it didn't feel like it. And no matter how many times Logan told her these things, she had a better more definite answer to each.

_What life is there to waste? What do Ah have to live for?! What world is out there for me that doesn't include me killin' people accidentally at the slightest touch._

She kept her eyes averted from the man, she always found it so hard to look into those steely determined eyes of his.

"We get that you've...needed time," he tried, "and we've given you plenty. _Three months_ is plenty. You've had time to mourn over what happened, had time to _adjust_. But hiding in your room forever...that's not a life, that's a _waste _of it."

"Ah...don't...care," she said quietly.

"We do," Logan responded, "look at me."

Rogue kept her eyes away from him, frowning at the floor now.

"Look at me!" he snapped. As he was still in uniform, he'd worn his gloves, and he quickly grabbed her jaw, not being too gentle about it neither, aware of just how much punishment she could take since the evolution. He swung her head around so she would face him, but her eyes stayed as far away from his. "Look...at...me..." he commanded, slowly and gruffly.

Finally growing tired of this, she raised her eyes to meet with his. She'd been avoiding staring into those eyes for months, but now, she couldn't.

"You have got to snap out of this...you're capable of controlling this."

"No, Ah'm not," Rogue pushed the tray back towards him and got out of the bed, she moved to the window to shut the drapes. She didn't want to see how blue the sky was, or how green the grass outside. She didn't want to see the sun, the clouds, the trees. All she wanted was to be left alone with the darkness.

"We could train again, just like before. This time, get your strength under control. Maybe we could work on the flight thing too, figure out how to control that-"

Rogue spun around, "Ah don't want to control it. Ah tried controllin' my absorption powers, look what happened! Ah don't want to _live_ like this anymore! Ah just want it _over."_

Logan's eyes softened, she'd never seen him look so suddenly sad, seen his eyes seem so glassy. Stoic, angry, gruff, the tough exterior that no one could ever penetrate, but he seemed so readily on edge and close to some kind of emotion. She'd prefer it if he'd go into a berserker rage, at least that way she could throw herself onto his claws. She'd suspected for the past three months that they may be able to do the job that normal blades couldn't.

"Just help me..." Rogue pleaded with him, "help me put an _end _to it all."

He swallowed hard, cracked his neck a little, then said in his angriest coldest voice, "if you're askin' me to _assist_ your suicide," he slammed his hand hard against the nearby wall, "then you're out of your goddamn mind."

"That's just it!" she shrieked, "Ah am! And Ah want to be put out of my goddamn misery."

"You're gonna get over this, Rogue. One way, or the other. And if I have to drag your ass out of this room-"

"Try it!" she dared him, "you know what Ah can do! You've seen the things Ah'm capable of! Ah could rip you apart, and you _know _it."

"But you won't," said Logan sternly, "you have more control than that..." he moved towards her, and reached for her arm.

Perhaps it was the dare, perhaps it was his assumption he knew her inside and out, through and through. Whatever it was, something snapped within her like an elastic band, and she sprung, her fist collided with his jaw.

She hadn't even swung _that_ hard at him, but he literally _flew_ through the air as if he weighed practically _nothing_, he sailed right over the bed and into the wall behind, leaving cracks in the plaster and landing on the floor with a hard thump. She cradled her fist instinctively, although it didn't remotely hurt. She was quite aware she'd felt the bones in her knuckles meet with the adamantium laced bone of his jaw only the collision had left no pain at all, not even the slightest tingling or numbness.

Logan tried to get up, staggered, and fell back a little into the wall; he put his hand to his mouth and there was blood, he gave the vaguest almost amused laugh and muttered, "made me bleed..."

Rogue stared down at her open hand, her lip trembling. She hadn't meant it to be like that, she hadn't meant it to be quite as hard as that. And that was why she could never leave this room.

"Didn't think you'd actually do it," Logan snorted, still sounding amused as he went about wiping his mouth on the back his glove.

Rogue stared down at the floor again, pursing her lips together, a new fresh threat of tears right on time. _Ah'm sick of cryin'. Ah'm sick of feelin' this way. _

"You hurt me, Rogue...but I didn't die," he pointed out. "I'm still here, fighting fit. Barely felt it."

Rogue doubted he'd barely felt it...she'd heard the clunking sound of her fist hitting his jaw, and she already saw the swelling of his flesh. It was _her_ who hadn't felt it. At last not physically. Mentally, however, she felt it sting.

"Go on," he moved over, "do it again."

"No..." she shook her head, tears about to spill.

"Do it!" he yelled at her.

"No!" she yelled back, her face turned away from him.

"I said do it!" he snarled in her face, she felt his spittle upon her cheek, his voice was loud, seemed to rattle right in her ear.

It felt more defensive than anything else this time. She swung again, this time at his stomach, and he doubled over, staggered backwards, gripping his gut and mocking her with a laugh.

"Again..." he managed, winded.

"No..."

He came towards her, he practically lunged, and she swung both hands out to stop him, pushing him aside as if he were a rag doll, sending him sprawling into the wall by Kitty's bed, his skull colliding with the blank space between a poster of Ryan Kwanton posing almost nude, and a class schedule print out. As he slid down the wall, knocking over Kitty's nightstand, Rogue saw the plaster fall away from the wall, showing the extensive damage behind.

"That all you got?" Logan asked loudly in a mocking tone, he thrust himself towards her again, grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her at the wall; she felt the wall crumble and crack at her back, but physically there was no pain, and it was only a force of habit that she gasped as if it had hurt her. Logan swung her sideways, and as she tried to resist, she felt herself being forced right against the windowsill, her back hit the wood, she felt the splinters scraping her backside as it broke but none penetrated her skin. "Come on! Fight me!" Logan dared her, shaking her by the shoulders.

Rogue spun around to wrestle him away, and what happened she had not predicted was that he would spin her and crash them both towards the windows. The glass panes shattered, the frame splintering and they went tumbling from the third floor window. She tried to catch herself in the air, but it would not work, and she landed hard on the polished sandstone patio, leaving huge cracks across it. She heard the dull clunking sound of Logan as his metal skeleton took the force of the fall.

Gasping for breath, panicked and angry, she pushed herself up from the broken stones, and turned to look at Logan, covered in scratches, uniform torn, blood seeping from wounds that were already healing, he was staring up at the sky, breathing heavily. He looked slightly dazed. Rogue thought that the impact of his skull upon the stones should have knocked him out_._

Rogue could find not a scratch upon herself, and other than her clothes being a little torn from where they'd caught against the glass and frame on the way out, she was absolutely unharmed although she tasted blood in her mouth where she'd accidentally bitten her cheek.

Brushing the glass out of her hair, she stared at Logan, who leaned up weakly, apparently suffering painfully from the impact quite a bit. He stumbled a little, apparently he _was _dazed but for some reason, what startled her was that he was laughing.

"What..." she began, feeling confused, and picked on.

Logan gestured all around them, to the grass, the sky, the trees, the bushes and statues.

And she understood then that he had done what he'd set out to do, that he'd tricked her, and accomplished his goal.

For the first time since the night of her evolution...he'd gotten her outside.

* * *

End of Part 1

* * *

So there it is, part one is up and posted. Hopefully people are still around to read, lol.


	2. Part 2

**DARKNESS WITHIN**

**Part Two**

* * *

"_This is madness!"_

"_Come on, Charles, you know it was a last resort. We've all been at our wits end with this. I had to do something."_

_ "So you _threw_ her from the window!"_

_ "I didn't _throw_ her_, _we fell through the window – she doesn't know her own strength..."_

_ "She could have been killed..."_

_ "She's _fine,_ not a scratch, not a single bruise. Christ she didn't even break a nail! She's stronger than _any _of us, she can take a beating."_

_ "That is _not_ the point. Since her evolution, her powers have never been tested. We have no conception of her limitations! You should have never gone to such an extreme!"_

Remy LeBeau could hear voices, they seemed faded, far away. They weren't in the room with him, they were somewhere else, not nearby as far as he could tell. They almost seemed to echo...as if down a hallway...a very long hallway.

His head hurt exceptionally, as if he'd been hit face on with a battering ram. His body ached dully, felt heavy and limp. He could barely muster enough strength to move his fingers at first, and they felt stiff and sore. The voices continued from outside the room somewhere, sounding slightly closer now.

_"I wouldn't have put her in any danger, you know that. I've seen the damage she can take, and it's extensive, the wire, the belt, blades and knives...nothing left a mark on her neck. She can't get any razors to go through her skin. I slammed her against a wall and she never felt a thing! You think I would throw her out of a goddamn window if I thought I could _hurt_ her?"_

_ "Just what was it you were trying to accomplish, Logan?!"_

_ "To get her out of that goddamn room, to get her into the sunlight, to get her out of there...out of her gloom and back into the world of the goddamn living."_

_ "These things should not be pushed. You should not have been so...so irresponsible!"_

_ "Irresponsible?! You don't think leaving her in her room for fifteen hours a day on her own is irresponsible?!"_

_ "She is hardly alone. She is always being checked on...you know that."_

_ "Regardless. You think it's responsible just letting her sit with her guilt and misery alone up there forever?!"_

_ "These thinks take time, Logan."_

_ "Time is being pissed away and nothing has worked. Your shrinks didn't work, coaxing hasn't worked, kindness hasn't worked, Charles. Your ideas aren't working any more. Mollycoddling her doesn't work. She doesn't need to be handled like some fragile little china doll, she needs to be given a harsh push back into reality, and if I have to be the one to do that..."_

Remy opened his eyes weakly, the light in the room was extraordinarily bright and he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a small groan with the discomfort this caused. _Why my head spinnin'? What's that humming sound...the beepin'? Where the fuck am I?_

_ "Logan, she is in a _very _fragile frame of mind right now, and your pushing her into using those new powers may be a catalyst into driving her to the next attempt to-"_

_ "The next attempt to what, Charles? What can she do? We've taken every precaution we can to ensure that won't happen."_

_ "But still-"_

_ "Look, she's _out of her room_, that's all that matters right now. She's out and in the kitchen with Ororo...and she's _eating_. Isn't that something? Doesn't that mean we've made progress?"_

_ "That remains to be seen, Logan."_

_ "It's one step closer than you've gotten, than anyone else has. Just give me a little more time and I'll-"_

_ "You'll what?"_

_ "I'll get her out of this somehow."_

Remy tried to turn over on the bed, roll away from the direction of the light. Something pulled with his weak arm and he felt a twinge of pain in his hand. Something began beeping loudly, the sound was too shrill, it made his head hurt more. He tried to cough but realised there was something down his throat. How had it been only _now_ he had noticed that? Instinctively, he choked. What the hell was this?!

There were moments of panic and confusion, loud footsteps and voices; he felt someone there trying to hold him still, the voices became louder, disorientating. Whatever the thing was in his throat was removed and he almost vomited.

_What's goin' on?! Where the fuck am I? What the fuck are they doin' to me?!_

_ "_The light..." he managed, in between laboured breaths.

"Logan, the blinds."

Remy heard the sound of the blinds being pulled shut, that quick shift of the blades against the fittings. And he tried to open his eyes again, it took much effort to do so, they burned and stung, felt dry and sore. In the blur of bad vision, he saw the bald shape of whom he recognised to be the X-Men's Professor Xavier, he couldn't have mistaken the shine of that bald head anywhere else. The one who held him down was Wolverine. The man they knew as Logan.

There were moments of questions, lights being shone in his eyes, being checked for reflex and feeling. Everything ached, especially his head, and it was all quite disorientating and confusing.

Nothing was more confusing than _why_ was he here? What happened? He couldn't remember anything.

"Rogue is gonna flip her shit," he heard Logan mumble under his breath while the Professor was examining him.

Remy had to wonder what that had to do with anything. What did Rogue care? Why would she? He barely knew the girl and she _barely_ knew him.

"Wha's goin' on?" Remy asked weakly once the Professor left him alone enough for him to manage a single sentence. "Where am I?"

"The institute," said Professor Xavier calmly.

Remy couldn't concentrate properly on the words, it took some moments to understand what the man meant. He was in the X-Men's _home_.

"What happened?" Remy groaned.

"Tell me..." began the Professor, "what do you remember? What's the last thing you can think of that happened to you?"

Remy was blank. He _couldn't_ remember. He could remember who these people were, yet couldn't remember what last interactions he'd had with them. They were enemies, he knew that much. But he hadn't opposed them for months. There were several things he could remember, but couldn't remember the last thing to happen specifically. He had no answer. It almost felt like dreaming...that strange sense of no beginning, trying to figure out how he had gotten there.

"You remember your name?" asked the Professor.

"Gambit," Remy replied weakly, trying to sit up and having a hard time of doing so. _Why I feel so goddamn weak?_

_ "_Your _real _name..." Logan uttered, sounding slightly impatient.

Remy faltered. It took a moment to remember that. Why was that? Did _they_ know it? Did he _want_ them knowing it? He supposed in this weak state, he wasn't in a position to really deny them information. Maybe this was a hostage situation? Were the X-Men the kind of people to do that? He'd never struck that from the band of goody-two-shoes. No...this wasn't a hostage situation. Who'd _pay _to have him safely returned?

He licked his dry lips and responded, "Remy. Remy LeBeau..."

"And your date of birth?" the Professor queried.

Again, this took a moment to remember. He had to really concentrate to summon up the information. December. His birthday was in December, wasn't it? Or was it? No, the twenty-sixth of December rang a bell. Day after Christmas, easy to remember. "twenty-six December," he managed, his voice dry.

"The year?"

"Ninety-one."

"Is that right?" asked Logan in a mumble to the Professor, "he doesn't look too sure."

"It's accurate," the Professor replied, "the day he signed the waver to join us, he gave us that information..."

Remy somehow managed to push himself up a little, his elbows shook under the strain. "I _what?"_

_ "_Charles, he doesn't remember..." Logan sighed.

Staring between the two of them, his vision still blurred, eyelids still heavy, his memories disorientated, he tried to make sense of all this.

"Amnesia isn't uncommon after a persistent coma," the Professor explained, "Remy, rest back, please."

"Not 'til you tell me what's goin' on..." Remy swallowed, "what happened? Why am I here? Did I get hurt?" he looked around, managing to make out the two other beds in the room, the hospital equipment set up. This was some kind of hospital room.

"You've been in a coma for three months," said the Professor gently, he put his hand upon Remy's shoulder and pushed him back carefully.

"How?"

The Professor and Logan both shared a glance, Remy caught that as he tried to focus on squinting to clear his poor vision.

"An incident left you in that condition. You should rest."

"Feels like I've been restin' for too long...three months is plenty," managed Remy. "Why do I hurt so much? Can hardly move..."

"A little muscular atrophy is all...you'll need some physical therapy."

"Terrific..." managed Remy, he let his head rest against the pillow, closed his eyes, "three months..." he whispered. _Three months of my life is missing...what about the time before that? Why can't I remember what happened?_

"Try to rest..." the Professor urged.

Remy couldn't help but comply, his body, his mind, everything was so heavy, that he couldn't have resisted even if he tried. Sleep wouldn't come, but he barely had enough energy to keep his eyes open, and so he complied with what was asked. He'd figure a way to escape later but two things had to be achieved first; recouperate, and most importantly, learn the truth to his being brought here.

* * *

Rogue sighed as she stared around the kitchen. It'd been repainted since she'd last been inside. The colour was now a duck egg blue that she wasn't overly fond of. A new table, a larger fridge. It was like a different kitchen. Only the cabinets and counter tops remained the same.

_Everything changes eventually, _she thought. She was aware of the way Ororo Munro watched every bite she took of the poached eggs on toast that had been made for her; she hadn't initially been hungry that morning, but following the altercation with Logan she'd felt quite exhausted and suddenly starved. At least it was more apetitising than soggy cornflakes.

She pushed around a piece of crumbling egg yolk around her plate. She couldn't go back to her room right now, the damage and absence of the window meant that the room was too cold to be lived in at this moment in time. Kitty Pryde was going to pitch a fit when she returned to find her room wrecked from the fight. Especially since most of the damage had been on her side of the room, and not Rogue's.

_If the girl doesn't request her own room now, Ah'd be shocked,_ Rogue thought dully as she lifted a piece of toast to her mouth and chewed.

"You don't like the kitchen," said Ororo, making small talk.

"It's fine," lied Rogue, she picked up her glass of orange juice and washed the dry crumbs of the toast down, "the flooring is nice," she admitted. The new tile floors were the only thing she did agree on, they were black and seemed to glitter. Very modern and expensive looking. "What's gonna happen about the damage to my room?" she asked casually. Her stomach ached with cramps and she pressed her free hand against her belly, wincing.

"Logan will take care of that," said Ororo.

"But who's gonna pay for all that damage?"

"Do not worry about it," Ororo soothed.

_What was he _thinkin'? _He could have been killed, _thought Rogue angrily. She pushed herself up from her chair with her mostly empty plate and moved to ditch what she wasn't hungry enough to eat into the trash before taking the plate to the sink. "He's an idiot."

Ororo forced a slight smile, but said nothing. She didn't seem to agree nor disagree. She only seemed to be somehow glad that Rogue was finally out of her room.

Rogue couldn't deny she still felt extremely uncomfortable being downstairs again. Right now it was fine, with only Ororo sitting at the other end of the long table way out of arms reach and danger of her powers. The other students were all at school, and anyone else remaining in the mansion were in different rooms. No one was in danger, for this moment.

But she still felt uneasy, nonetheless. "Let me do that," Ororo stood.

"Ah can do it," Rogue warned, backing away a little from Ororo as she took a step forward. Ororo stopped in her tracks. "Ah'm perfectly capable of washin' a plate."

The tap worked via sensors, as the new taps up in the bathrooms did. It was a precaution, after Rogue had accidentally snapped off taps on numerous occasions and flooded the bathroom out more than five times. Rogue ran her hand quickly beneath the sensor to make the water run hot and she moved the plate to rinse it beneath the flow, but unfortunately her strength caught the ceramic and cracked it, the broken pieces landed in the steel sink beneath.

"Fuck," she muttered. It wasn't the first plate she'd accidentally broken in the past three months this way, and she was sure it wasn't going to be the last.

"Don't worry," said Ororo, getting up quickly to come over and move the broken pieces out of the sink.

Rogue winced, moving out of the way swiftly. Eating with ceramic plates was a novelty she hadn't enjoyed for months since her last suicide attempt (trying to use the sharp edge of a broken plate to stab herself in the throat hadn't been a smart move and up until now had been the last time she'd been given one to eat from. She supposed in Ororo's surprise that she'd left her bedroom, the plate had been given inadvertently. Either that or it was because the only strong plastic plates left in the mansion were up in Rogue's bedroom still on the breakfast tray.

"Ah'm sorry..." Rogue apologised, both for swearing in front of Ororo, and for breaking the plate. She sighed. "Ah haven't touched a real plate in so long..."

"Rogue, you will overcome this. You simply do not know how to judge your own strength yet, but this will come with _practise._"

Rogue wasn't convinced of this. She stared down at her gloved hands, wondering how it could be that so much strength to break things so easily could have evolved. It had been a question she'd asked herself since the evolution had completed and she'd been left this way.

"Pratise could take years and Ah'm not gonna destroy the house in the process. Ah've already caused enough damage," Rogue confessed, "soon as my room is fixed...Ah'll be back up there...right now, Ah don't have much choice," she reminded. She moved to look out of the window into the back garden, the damaged patio slabs reminded her of the incident with Logan. Was he going to fix that too? Who would pay for all that damage?

"Maybe it is time you began to train once again," Ororo suggested, she put the pieces of broken plate into the trash then dusted her hands off, "one on one with Logan. Some time in the Danger Room..."

"Ah'd wreck the Danger Room in this condition," Rogue lamented, "and Ah know how much work it takes to fix that place any time somethin' goes wrong..."

"But still," Ororo tried.

Rogue picked up the solid metal ladle from the hook on the shelf, and without much effort she bent the bowl of it backwards from the handle, "Ah don't even have to _strain _to do this...it's thick solid stainless steel!" she bent it back to it's original position with ease, "the Danger Room _can't _be put back in shape as easy."

"You will never gain control of this new found _strength_ if you do not train..."

"You guys said that about my absorption powers too," Rogue reminded, "and Ah trained and trained and it never happened," she put the ladle back on the hook. The handle looked slightly crooked now, but she supposed it mattered not.

"There is a difference between the control of your skin and the control of your physical strength, Rogue. You are much more capable of control than you believe-"

"Ah know what Ah'm talkin' about," Rogue snapped, "this is _my_ body we're talkin' about, Ah know what and what Ah'm not capable of-"

"Rogue..."

Rogue turned towards the kitchen door at the interruption, seeing Logan standing there looking grim as he usually did these days. Even his amusement of getting her out of her room had been ill-lasting, it seemed. "What now?" she asked, still mad at him for what he'd pulled. He could have been seriously hurt. She'd have never forgiven herself if he had been, regardless of what his healing factor could do, regardless of how unbreakable his bones were.

"Remy is up."

Rogue blinked. The room seemed to spin, seemed to slow down and for a second she had to grasp the nearby kitchen counter for support, hoping the marble wouldn't shatter under her fingers. "He...he what?"

"Come."

Rogue barely gave Ororo a second look or a warning she'd continue the argument later. She rushed to follow Logan through the winding halls towards the hospital room. Her blood seemed to run colder with each step.

"When? When'd he wake?"

"About half an hour ago," Logan replied calmly, walking at her side, keeping his distance.

"And you didn't think to come get me?!" Rogue gaped.

"We had to check to see if he was all right first...the professor had to medically examine him..." Logan reminded.

"Is...is he all right?" Rogue asked. She was afraid that the answer may be no. In her head all kinds of possibilities presented themselves. What if he had become brain damaged, or had forgotten how to speak? What if she'd left him with the mental capacity of a child?

"He seems to be," Logan responded after a moment, seeming slightly distracted. "He has all sensations, and other than a little atrophy, he can move fine."

"That's...that's good," she said, feeling somewhat hopeful for the first time in what had been months.

"Look, there's somethin' you should know," Logan stopped in the middle of the hall, "it might just be temporary, the Professor isn't _sure_..." he folded his arms, "But all the same...you should be _aware_ of what's about to happen..."

"What do you mean?" she stopped, gazing at him. It was funny, she thought, how these halls felt bigger, and how far away he felt even though physically there was only three feet between them.

"He doesn't _remember_," Logan responded, "anything...nothing at all, what got him here..."

Rogue stared ahead at her former mentor, feeling so utterly lost.

"He knows who he is but...as to what got him here...what happened just before...it's...not there in his head. Stuff is missing...memories are gone..."

"That's...that's amnesia..." Rogue replied, her stomach flipping.

"Exactly," Logan nodded, "Now, whether this is a _permanent_ thing or not, we're not sure yet. Professor is sure there isn't any _damage _to his brain...He knows who we are...what we are...who he is...but anything that happened three months ago...he seems as in the dark as if he hadn't been there, as if _nothing _had happened."

"So...what are you sayin'?" Rogue swallowed hard.

"The professor asked me...in the interest of not overwhelming him, that you _don't_ tell him what happened, at least not for now."

"You're...sayin'...that he doesn't remember _anything..." _she repeated. "So...he doesn't remember...me?"

"He knows who you are, Rogue," Logan answered sternly, "but if you're asking if he remembers his _relationship_ with you...then sorry...no."

Rogue felt her tears blurring her vision, and she sucked in a breath and tried to control it.

"Take a breath, don't react that way around him. You'll freak him out," said Logan. "He doesn't need any more confusion than he already has. We shouldn't even _really _let you see him right now...but..." Logan sighed, "Well...I know how hard it's been for you...and I knew that when he awoke, nothin' was gonna stop you from bein' at his side," Logan began down the hall again.

Rogue followed at his footsteps, hugging herself insecurely. She wished she'd thought to change out of the fresh pyjamas she'd put on. She wasn't sure she wanted Remy seeing her in duct-taped pyjamas and luminous pink socks, especially not right now. She walked slow with every step trying to hold onto every ounce of control that she had within herself. The darkness that controlled her anxiety and frustration could _not _be allowed to present itself at this occasion. She couldn't risk worrying Remy, nor could she stand to see anyone have to help her through yet another of those attacks.

As she stepped into the hospital room her first instinct was to burst into tears and dash out of the room but she had to fight it with all her might. The second instinct was to run to his bedside and grab for his hand, but she had to fight that too, knowing that it couldn't be allowed, for one reason he didn't remember her being with him and two, her strength probably would have cracked his knuckles like walnut shells in a nut cracker.

Remy was sitting up in bed, looking slightly pale, hair overgrown, face unshaven with at least what looked to be like a three or four day growth. But _physically_ he looked the same. She'd expected him to be thin and drawn but he looked healthy, hardly any change in him at all. Except that when he looked at her, she saw the lack of true recognition in his eyes.

_Logan wasn't lying. He _doesn't_ remember me, _she despaired. Her heart ached with the knowledge, soul seeming to die within her every moment being in that room with the boy she'd almost killed.

Remy tilted his head a little, looking at her, squinting just a little, "Rogue...?"

Rogue stood at the doorway, she let her shoulder rest weakly against it, hoping it would hold her up and not crack with her strength. She said nothing and tried not to blink, afraid that it might make threatening tears spill. _Don't you dare cry, _she warned herself.

"You cut your hair," he noted.

Rogue reached up to brush her hand against the left side of her head, where her hair had been layered into her head to try and fix the mess she'd left cutting her hair off in frustration of a presumably dull razor. "You like it?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

"It's...very you," he replied, he glanced between the Professor, who was also in the room at the bedside, and Logan, who was standing near the window, peering out of the blinds casually as if he weren't paying attention or listening to this scene unfold. To Rogue it seemed clear he didn't like the audience.

"How...do you feel?" Rogue asked, she stood there still, not wanting to step much further into the room for fear of what may happen. _Ah could break that bed if Ah came near it, maybe break one of those machines by accidentally banging an elbow into any of them...there's so much that could go wrong._

Remy seemed to think about this, "confused...what happened?"

Rogue glanced over to the Professor, then to Logan, who both gave her that look that said she _shouldn't_ try to explain right now. "There was an incident...you fell into a coma...they...they've been lookin' after you for three months..."

"When can I _leave?" _Remy asked of her, as if _she _were the one in charge of this operation, and not the man sitting in the wheelchair to his left.

"When you've recovered, properly," Rogue held back the urge to cry. Already he wanted to leave. He'd been awake half an hour and he already wanted to leave her. Not that it mattered, not like there was _any _chance they could be together now.

_There would have been if Ah'd listened, if Ah hadn't gone through that machine. Now he's in a hundred times more danger of being near me than he ever was before. There could have been somethin'...Ah could have had a relationship, we proved that we could get physical before. Now...now Ah'm not even capable of touchin' him without snappin' his bones or drainin' him to death._

_ "_You need time to recover," the Professor explained.

"Can I have a moment with her?" Remy nodded weakly in Rogue's direction to both men, who looked between themselves as if they were unsure if it were wise. The Professor made the decision and responded.

"Of course."

Rogue stepped into the room and aside as the two men left. Logan gave her that hard look again, it told her to _not _tell him a thing. She gave a vague nod, and she waited until they were gone.

"Rogue..." Remy said with a dry voice, "what the fuck...what the fuck is goin' on?" he kept his voice low, his expression was desperate.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked, side stepping a little towards the wall, moving around the room, keeping her best distance from him.

Remy stared at the ceiling, trying to remember this. "I don't know...it's all a blur...I can't...think straight right now."

"Oh," said Rogue. "But...you know me?"

"I know you..." he tried to shrug, but his joints seemed to ache at the effort and his expression revealed the pain. "I..." he paused, "I remember Mardi gras...with you..."

"That was nearly a year ago, Remy," Rogue hugged herself to keep her arms from accidentally hitting anything.

Remy's expression darkened, "seems like...I don't know...weeks ago...have I lost a year?"

"Ah don't know how much you've lost," she confessed. _"_You've definitely lost three months...that's all Ah know," she lied. No, it seemed he'd definitely lost more than that. Perhaps four, maybe five. _Oh my god, could he really have lost a year of his life because of me? Did Ah drain those memories out of him _permanently_? _She wondered in horror. _Am Ah capable of that?_

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"You look so...shocked,"he replied.

"Ah'm just...glad to see you made it out of the coma is all...there was...a time it looked like you weren't gonna get make it."

"I was that close to death, huh?" he seemed almost amused.

"Yes."

"What put me there?"

"It's hard to explain."

"_Try,"_ he responded, sounding a little angry about it. She could see he was growing ever more frustrated with this, and she supposed she couldn't blame him for that.

The only problem though that there wasn't a way to respond. How could she? How could she tell him that it was her fault he'd ended up in a coma, that her desperation for control had nearly destroyed his life and had _stolen_ part of it to boot? She couldn't. "Right now, it's not important. You need rest, you don't need to stress about stuff you can't change any more."

_Hypocrite,_ she thought angrily at herself. _Tell him to do things you can't even do, tell him not to stress about stuff he can't change when that's all _you_ ever do. You're a fucking hypocrite, Rogue._

Remy sighed, "don't got much choice. Ain't got the strength to get out of here..." he reminded.

"You'll feel better soon."

"How'd I end up back in Bayville?"

"Ah...don't know, maybe you came here for work?" she shrugged, she headed towards the door, "you...have to rest now..."

_And Ah can't be in this room with you,_ she thought unhappily. _Ah can't look at the damage Ah've done to you...Ah'm scared Ah'm gonna break down again._

_ "_Rogue, I need to know what happened...why the hell would I be here? They said I signed a waver to join the X-Men..." he frowned.

Rogue froze, the information sinkng in, "you what?"

"You're askin' me?" he demanded weakly, "I don't remember that...I don't remember any damn thing! I'd have never..." he shook his head tiredly, "I wouldn't have joined...not without a hell of a good reason to...and...I can't see any reason I _would_..."

Rogue's stomach churned, she felt sick to it. This was information she'd _never _been given. Why hadn't anyone ever told her this? Shouldn't someone have mentioned it? Why hadn't _he _told her about this back when he'd done this? She was furious that this information had to come from Remy after his coma. It should have come from the Professor.

"Ah...Ah don't know..." she shook her head honestly, "Ah...never knew about this...Ah swear..."

"Never?"

"Ah promise..." she looked him straight in the eye, "you never mentioned it to me...ever..."

"Wait...why would I?" he tried to sit up straighter, "Have we been in contact?"

"You could say that..." she responded meekly. She didn't want to divulge how much contact they'd been in. She was sure right now he wouldn't be able to handle that.

"Why don't I remember?!" he asked more of himself than of Rogue.

"Ah guess...your injury...it's left some things fuzzy. Maybe it'll all come back..." she suggested, "Ah...Ah have to go. Ah have...stuff to do..." she lied.

"Okay..." he frowned a little.

"Ah...hope you'll feel better soon," she quietly murmured, and with that she left him there with his confusion.

* * *

**END OF PART TWO**

* * *

Hope everyone is enjoying the story so far! Thanks for all the reviews for part one. Glad so many of you like the first part and are glad that the sequel has started already. Sorry this part took so long to upload, real life does like to get in the way at times. Hopefully part three won't take so long. :)


	3. Part 3

**DARKNESS WITHIN**

**Part Three**

* * *

Rogue had been lost deep in thought sitting at the kitchen table staring into space when Kitty Pryde came rushing in with her voice so shrill it could have practically shattered glass. The day had been astoundingly difficult to endure, the being brought out of her room and then learning of Remy LeBeau's amnesia. It seemed some horrible cruel irony that he had finally awakened but remembered absolutely nothing of the months leading up to his coma.

Kitty's cries brought Rogue out of her reverie. "What the heck happened to our room!?"

Rogue turned to look at the girl, who was pale, and wild-eyed. "Oh...yeah, that..." she asked, her tone monotone, devoid of the feelings she'd been denying herself since seeing Remy once again.

"_That_?" Kitty asked incredulously, as if Rogue's mention of it had been some simple little thing that could have been so easily overlooked. "_That_ looks like a wrecking ball was let loose in there!"

_Yeah,_ thought Rogue wryly. _It was made of Adamantium and has more hair than a brown bear._

_ "_What now?! What about all our stuff?! What about where we're meant to sleep?!" Kitty asked frantically, then her eyes studied Rogue, and she paused for a moment. "You're...downstairs..." she seemed to realise suddenly. "You're out of the room..."

"Yeah..." Rogue sighed, "well...Ah had no choice, did Ah?" she said pointedly.

Kitty slowly approached and sat at the opposite side of the table. "What happened? Did you...did you try to do it again?" she asked worriedly. Rogue could only assume that by _it_, her room-mate meant _attempted suicide._

"No," Rogue shook her head, she stared down at the table, drawing her hands away from the table top so they wouldn't be anywhere near the reach of Kitty's. She knew whenever Kitty was concerned these days she had that gentle tendency to always reach out to touch someone, so better to avoid it altogether. "It...was just...somethin' stupid."

"Define 'stupid'," offered Kitty.

Rogue refused quietly, "Ah don't want to talk about it," she shook her head a little and pursed her lips.

Kitty groaned.

"Ah'll tell you later," Rogue assured, "Just...Ah'm really not in the mood right now."

"You're not in the mood?" Kitty gave an ironic laugh, "My wall is ruined...my furniture is wrecked...we have no window and it's like, freezing up there...what the hell are we meant to do at bed time?"

"Ororo already settled it earlier. We're movin' into the guest room in the attic tonight. Ah'm gonna sleep on an air mattress, you can have the bed..." Rogue shrugged. _That room was where Remy slept last before Ah ruined his life. Ah don't think Ah even want to sleep in there. Maybe Ah can just sleep in here. Or in the rec room on the couch._

Kitty swept her hand through her bangs, sighing tiredly. After a moment, she studied Rogue's face and remarked, "you look upset."

"Remy came to," Rogue responded, her voice weak. She saw no reason to withhold the information, she was sure the Professor or Logan would divulge it soon enough if she herself didn't. Secrets didn't stay secrets long in this place.

"He did? Seriously?" Kitty gaped, "that's...that's like, really-" she began, seeming to be searching for some kind of positive comment to make.

"He doesn't _remember_," Rogue sighed, "not a damn thing. Not the evolution...not workin' for Magneto...not...bein' with me. Ah saw the look in his eyes, as if he just _barely _knew who Ah was. He's not even sure what he remembers bein' the last thing that happened to him. He remembers when he took me to New Orleans...that was nearly a year ago...it's like...it's like Ah've _stolen _a whole year of his life..."

Kitty ever so rarely swore, but quietly, she too stared into space and said, "oh fuck."

Rogue shook her head in disgust with the way fate had decided to deal her a bum hand. "Ah didn't expect...that if he ever woke up things would be hunky dory...you know that."

"I know," Kitty said softly.

"But Ah didn't expect..." Rogue sighed sadly, "Ah didn't _think_ it was...gonna all be...as if nothin' ever happened..."

Kitty nodded, understanding.

Rogue stood up slowly and walked over to the window to stare outside. It had begun to grow dark and she gingerly pushed the slats of the blinds apart with the tips of her gloved fingers, hoping they wouldn't snap under the strain. "Ah don't know how Ah held myself together. Ah was close to breakin' down...Ah could feel it comin'...just the same way it always does...but Ah was so afraid of scarin' him. He doesn't remember a goddamn thing...Ah couldn't risk freakin' him out more than he is already..."

Saying nothing, Kitty listened closely. Rogue felt her eyes on her back the entire time.

"Maybe Ah'm lookin' at it all wrong..."

"How'd you mean?" asked Kitty.

"Way it stands, it's probably all in Remy's interest if he doesn't remember a damn thing. That way he can start off his life where he left it before he ever came to this place..." her eyes followed a dark cloud sweeping by in the nearly dark sky.

"You think that'd...be good for him? If he didn't ever remember?" asked Kitty carefully.

"It's what he wanted, you know," Rogue responded, her voice thick with emotion as she turned to look over her shoulder at the girl, "for me to take away some of the memories of the bad shit that went down before he and Ah got together."

Kitty said nothing to this.

Rogue drew a breath and she held back tears, "Ah don't _want _him to have to remember the stuff he had to go through. It damn near broke him. But...Ah never...Ah didn't..." she trailed off. "But Ah didn't..." she found it hard to complete the thought, becoming more and more choked up.

"But you didn't want him to forget about you either..." Kitty finished for her gently.

Rogue closed her eyes and tried to recompose herself, "it'd be easier for him if it stays that way. That way...he doesn't have to put up with the problems bein' with me would have caused. He never wanted to fall in love...he told me that. He'll...he'll have a better life not knowin' what we meant to each other."

"Maybe it's not permanent, Rogue. This...is amnesia, I mean...amnesia can be temporary, especially after a coma."

"But this wasn't a normal coma..." Rogue reminded, "this was my _power induced _coma...Ah absorbed those memories and now _Ah _own them. Ah remember things he doesn't. Ah have those feelings stored up inside my head."

"But you've absorbed memories before...and people have gotten them back," Kitty reminded, "stuff you've absorbed from me...I've remembered them afterwards."

"But not like this..." Rogue shook her head, "if you were me...you'd know the difference."

"How different is it?" Kitty wondered aloud.

"The things he can't remember about what happened, the things he felt, the things he said, that he did...those memories _are _mine now. Ah don't see them through his eyes, but through mine, as if _Ah _lived them. They're as vivid now as they were the day Ah absorbed them. They haven't faded like the other memories have."

"So...you think you have them permanently...that he _can't_ get those back? Aren't you jumping the gun? He just woke up. For all you know, tomorrow morning he might remember everything..._and_ he might want to pick up right where he left off with you."

"That's not gonna happen," Rogue hugged herself; it took all her strength to hold back tears. "Even if he _did _remember, and in my _gut_ Ah feel he won't...now there's just so much danger that...we could never..._Ah _could never have anythin' with him. Or anyone."

"Because of your new powers?" Kitty asked softly.

Rogue gave a small nod, closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Ah can't touch anythin' without destroyin' it...the mess up there...Ah did that...and Ah didn't break a sweat. Ah barely pushed him..."

"Who?" Kitty frowned.

"Logan," Rogue finally admitted, wondering why try to keep it from Kitty when she was bound to see the bruises on Logan eventually and put one and one together.

"You threw Logan through our window?" Kitty gaped.

"He threw _me_. He provoked me...told me Ah need to get out of this funk...tried to make me fight...and Ah threw him across the room...that's what did all the damage...my doin' that..."

"But-"

"But nothin'," Rogue sighed, "Ah'm dangerous...Ah'm gonna end up seriously killin' someone...it's why Ah need to be back in my room...alone...where Ah can't hurt anyone."

"You'll learn to control this, Rogue...it's just gonna take time."

"No..." Rogue refused to believe this, "it's been months...and believe me, Ah have _tried _to be gentle with the things Ah own, but even those crack and snap at the slightest touch. Ah feel like...Ah'm standin' on a field of land-mines and it's only a matter of time before Ah make the wrong move and hurt someone bad..."

"It won't happen," Kitty said sternly, "Logan is right you know. You need to stop this stuff. Maybe..." she dropped her blue eyes to the table and seemed slightly conflicted for a moment, "maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe you _should_ go on medication, like the doctor said."

"It didn't work for Wanda."

"You're not Wanda. And you never _will_ be Wanda," Kitty assured, she pushed herself up from the table. "You're upset...your head is in a mess 'cause of what happened, believe me, I get it..." she moved over slowly. "But you're not doing yourself any favours hiding from the world and refusing help."

Rogue put her hands in her hair and sighed deeply again. She wished at least one person would see it her way.

"You've already taken the first step, Rogue. You've gotten out of the room...you've seen Remy again. Don't you feel _good_ about that?"

"No. Ah feel _worse."_

_ "How?"_ demanded the petite girl, "how can you feel _worse_ than you did when you were cooped up in our room?"

"You don't understand, Kitty...Ah'm in a strange place...and Ah don't know these people any more. What's worse is Ah don't know the Remy LeBeau in that bed...and he certainly doesn't know me. We're strangers...we're nothin' to each other. It's as if...everythin' we had was erased."

"You miss him?"

Rogue felt her eyes brim with tears, "every day."

"Then spend time with him," Kitty advised quite simply, as if the task suggested was as simple as suggesting what to make for dinner, or what shoes to wear.

"It's not that simple!" Rogue responded in dismay.

"Why not?"

"Ah can't spend time with him! Ah can't tell him _anythin'. _He can't know what don't know how to be around him any more."

"You don't have to tell him anything. Gosh...go to see him and see if he _needs _anything...maybe he's like...bored in there, or...wants...I don't know, an extra pillow. Find an excuse."

Rogue shook her head sullenly.

Kitty moved to the fridge swiftly and pulled out a can of soda from the bottom, she tossed it to Rogue, "here."

Catching it gingerly, Rogue stared down at the can in her hands, hoping she hadn't dented it and it was about to explode like the ones she'd touched in the past had. "What's this for?"

"Take him it, say you thought he might want something to drink. All they'll be giving him is water."

Rogue chewed the inside of her cheek as she stared down at it.

"Look, you want to see him again, right?" Kitty asked. "You've done _nothing_ but worry about him since the day he went into that Coma...I don't know how you can stand _not _being with him right now."

"Ah have to keep a distance," Rogue uttered miserably.

"Did the Professor say that? Did Hank?"

"Uh...no..." Rogue answered sheepishly. She supposed it was true. Neither the Professor nor Hank had ordered her to keep a distance. Logan hadn't either. Would it really be breaking any rules if she made contact with the boy again? "They didn't set any rules about it..."

"Then go," Kitty gestured to the open door. "Just...be casual."

"Casual," Rogue sighed as she headed for the door. After three months of being reclusive, Rogue wasn't even sure she knew how to be casual any more. "Just...be casual," she repeated quietly to herself, with an ironic laugh. "Right."

* * *

Remy was tired but couldn't sleep. It astounded him how he could have been in a comatose state for three months yet be so completely exhausted and empty of energy. Wasn't a coma essentially non-stop bed-rest?

There was a window in the room, but the bed was too far for him to even reach the blinds and open them so he could see what was outside. He could only make out the slithers of darkness beyond them as the early night was drawing in. He gave a sigh. He wished he could find the energy at least to get up and go to look outside, but right now he just felt too weak.

_I feel...drained,_ he thought unhappily.

He couldn't take his mind off of how he'd ended up here. Why were they all being so secretive? What had happened? What had he _done_ to wind up in a coma? Why were they being so seemingly _caring _and determined to take good care of him? It seemed quite unnatural to him. Hard life lessons had taught him that when people were _too _nice, they had to be up to something. Somehow, it didn't seem outside of the X-Men's nature – they'd always been that type. Goody-two-shoes, always willing to help anyone. All the same, he didn't trust this completely. Something was definitely _off_, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what that was exactly but his instincts told him something was very wrong. They were hiding something.

A soft light footstep at the door brought his attention to someone entering the hospital room. From the well lit hallway outside, he saw the shadow of her before she entered, her lean lanky somehow slightly taller than he remembered frame was swathed in fleece pyjamas, the same ones she'd been wearing earlier. Didn't this girl ever dress any more? It must have been five or six pm, surely, but she was still in her pyjamas?

"Rogue," he said, his voice slightly dry. He tried to lean up and it took effort. He hated that he felt so weak, so goddamn helpless.

Rogue moved over slowly, seeming sheepish, and shy. Her pale face was so bare of makeup and unlike how he was used to seeing her look. She seemed oddly childlike, but thin and worn, like a girl who had seen and endured too much and become strangely haunted by it that it had become etched into her face.

It was right there beyond those green eyes of hers. Those eyes looked so different too, they were not the same eyes. The colour was off. Contacts, maybe, he reasoned. The green was slightly different, more vivid almost than the pale dull green they had been before.

Oddly, he found himself missing that green, but he couldn't fathom why.

"Ah...Ah thought you might be thirsty..." she moved around the bed, deliberately side-stepping and keeping her distance in a very odd unnatural way. He watched her, confused by this odd behaviour. Rogue dropped the can gingerly onto the nightstand almost as if the thing may be a bomb about to go off at any moment. She slowly stepped back, folding her arms insecurely across her stomach.

"I am, kind of..." he admitted, he turned to look at it, trying to decide if he had the energy to reach for it. He moved his arm but it was weak and shaky; he hated showing that vulnerability to _anyone_. He felt Rogue's eyes follow his every movement as he managed to, after almost a minute, to grasp the cold can in his weak fingers. Opening it provided more difficulty than the reaching had, his finger couldn't seem to hook under the tab and just kept slipping off, the tab clicking with each unsuccessful attempt. _Too weak to even open a can of soda...where the hell is all the energy I used to have...why do I feel so drained? "_Can't...get it open," he complained. "Coma took all my strength I guess."

Rogue looked at the can in his hands, her expression so mixed with concern and upset. Why did _she_ seem so upset? This was happening to _him,_ not her.

"Could you...?" he held it to her, hand barely strong enough to hold it up for too long without him nearly dropping it.

Uncertainly, she stepped nearer and took it; he spotted it the instant she grasped it, that she made sure to take it from the bottom as his fingers had it from the top. She was _afraid_ to let their hands touch...even though she was wearing gloves. He had noted before the pyjama sleeves _duct-taped_ to her gloves. But now, it seemed even more worrying. She'd never been _this _up tight about her powers before, had she? His eyes dropped to her feet, even the ankles of her pyjama bottoms were duct-taped to her thick socks. Her feet looked oddly misshapen within those socks, far larger and fatter than they should have been for someone of her body type. Was she wearing _more_ than one pair of socks?

Remy was an observant man, and he could observe right away something was _horribly_ wrong when it came to this girl. Something that hadn't been wrong before. _She's genuinely afraid of touchin' me...real afraid..._

Rogue awkwardly tried to pop the tab, and Remy observed still. She didn't even remove a glove to do this, and she stood there, her thumb slipping clumsily from the edge of the tab. It seemed she wasn't even putting proper effort into doing it...trying half-heartedly almost.

After several failed attempts of popping the tab, Remy cleared his dry throat and commented a little hoarsely, "perhaps you should take your gloves off first."

"Ah can do this," she grunted, her expression focused. Eventually, she managed to pop it with an expression that spoke of how absolutely petrified she was that she would cause something to wrong. She held it out to him to take it, it dangling from the tips of her gloved fingers. As he took it, she moved hastily again, this time towards the window.

"Thanks," he said, watching her as he weakly raised the can to his lips to take a sip. Cola tasted better than he remembered. It was the perfect temperature too.

"How do you feel now?" Rogue asked with some unease as she gingerly put a finger upon the slats of the blind and pried them apart a little to stare outside.

"Like shit," he decided to admit. Why try to hide it? She could already see that he was lying here vulnerable like a newborn. "Drained."

He wasn't sure what it was about his response, but Rogue spun around and looked at him with some alarm, and as she did, the blind fell from the fitting almost as if she'd yanked it down with all her might. It made a loud crashing sound upon the floor, and she gasped, looking at it with shock, her eyes seeming almost watery. "Ah...Ah..." she stammered, her lip trembling.

"Guess that wasn't fitted very well," Remy mused, looking down at it. He was glad to see it go, at least now he could see out of the window, although admittedly there wasn't much to see from where he was.

Rogue put her arms back around herself, she chewed her lip, looking quite distressed. Her face seemed to burn so scarlet that he wondered if he'd be able to feel the heat from her cheeks soon regardless of how far away she stood.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked.

"Nothin'," she shook her head, her eyes dropped down to the blind again. Something about it sure worried her; Remy reasoned she was probably expecting to be reprimanded for that.

"You...you're real different from how I remember," he admitted. "Not just the hair...it's...everything. You look thin...and pale..."

"Always was," she admitted, she side stepped away from the window to where the wall was.

"You okay?"

"Ah'm fine."

_No you're not,_ he thought. To Remy, she looked torn, and confused, and extremely guilty of something, but what he couldn't exactly pinpoint. The word _damaged_ came to him like the flashing of a sign of a Las Vegas Casino. She'd seemed to him damaged before, of course, but now...all he could see was a _very_ damaged girl. A very unhappy and extremely _broken _girl. She was a porcelain figurine that had fallen from the mantle; she'd most likely been glued back together, but the cracks most definitely showed. What had gotten her in that condition? Who pushed her off the mantle, he wondered.

"I think I liked your hair how it was, you know," he said, simply for something to say. "Not that...I don't like what you did with it, but...you know, there was nothing wrong with it before."

"Ah..." she touched her own hair frustratedly, "Ah needed a change," she finally stated, her voice slightly stammering.

_Really, you're going to talk to her about hair?_ He thought at himself. _What else is there to talk about though? I can't pussy foot around this forever, I need to know what the hell is going on.._

"Rogue...can't you just tell me what the hell is goin' on?" he finally asked. He stared at her, drinking in every little detail that was different, comparing each one. The eyes, the thinness, the paleness, the hair, the demeanour. She was like a completely different person, yet oddly the same. A stranger, but not a stranger.

"Ah..." she drew her breath, "Ah don't know what you mean, Remy."

_Did she just call me by name? _It struck him odd. It took only a second to occur to him that the reason it struck him as so odd was that she _never_ had called him by his first name before, and not only that but it sounded so very familiar. The way it had rolled so very easily from her tongue almost suggested she'd said before a hundred times. Perhaps a thousand? It alarmed him more than it should have.

Rogue drew her breath, she blinked, realising she'd used his name and tried to correct her mistake. The cover up was poor, and he saw through it. "Gambit..." she said, "sorry, Ah just...when you're not in...you know...your uniform, Ah try not to see you like...Magneto's lackey."

"I ain't worked for Magneto for quite some time, chere," he admitted.

"Oh..." she said, so quietly it was barely a breath. Her eyes shifted from spot to spot in the room, avoiding him.

"Did...I really sign up to be one of you?"

"Ah don't know," Rogue shrugged, "Ah haven't asked."

"You're sure you didn't know?"

"Ah had no idea about it, Ah swear."

"Oh."

"Ah...should go..."

"So you're gonna leave me like this...no info at all...nothin' to go on as to what happened, how I got here...?" he asked.

"Ah can't...Ah'm sorry," Rogue made her way for the door, "do...you need anything else?" she stopped, hovering awkwardly there.

"An explanation."

"That's...Ah'm sorry," she shook her head, "but if you need anythin' else..."

"Will you come again?" he asked. _With a little more persuasion, I can get it out of her, charm her...all it'd take is a little charm, once I feel strong enough to make some effort. She definitely knows something and I need to piece this together before I get out of this place or I might never know what the hell happened to me and how I got here._

She seemed almost hurt by the request, her shoulders seemed to sink in response. "Do...you want me to?" she asked quietly.

"It's kind of...lonely down here, you know?" he forced a smile, tried desperately to make it genuine.

"You want me to send down one of the guys to hang?" she asked, her breath drawn a little, her eyes averted from his. She was deliberately avoiding even seeing his smile. He couldn't deny to himself this left him feeling slightly crestfallen. Girls didn't normally avoid looking at him. He supposed his charm was beyond working on her now, perhaps she was too _damaged _for it to work? Or perhaps she was just too wise.

"I don't quite think they're my type of people," he admitted. He couldn't quite see himself getting along with _any_ of them, they were strangers as far as he concerned, and Rogue was after all the only one he'd ever spoken to in a vaguely more personal nature. Besides, he felt more connected to Rogue. There was an odd bond he felt with her, she was a strange sort of outcast, had been used most of her life, just as he had. They were more alike than different, it made her somehow easier to be around. At least, that was how he felt it to be.

"How about one of the girls?" she offered with a sigh.

_Is she really that desperate to avoid bein' alone with me?_ He wondered. "Not unless any of them give head and hand-jobs," he cracked. He realised it was the wrong thing to say, as her face suddenly darkened.

"That's not funny..." she snapped, her eyes looking quite glassy.

_Wrong joke to make, you don't make jokes about sex to a girl who can't have sex or a relationship. What was I thinking? Why do I always run my mouth like that? _

"I was kidding. Lighten up, chere..." he said, softening his voice a little.

Rogue recomposed herself, "Ah'll...send someone to fix the blinds," she said, her voice quite thick.

"Actually, leave it," he suggested, glancing to the window.

"Don't you want some privacy?"

"I ain't got nothin' to hide, unless it's the catheter..." he raised the blanket and looked miserably underneath it at the catheter. "This is quite uncomfortable, by the way."

"Oh..." she didn't seem to know what to say to this, her cheeks turned pink, her eyes averted. "Ah don't really...know...about that...stuff..." she confessed.

"They stuck a tube up my dick...and it ain't fun."

"Oh."

"You mind seein' if maybe you can get your professor or the Beast to take it out so I can pee like a human bein' again?" he asked.

"Ah'll...uh...okay...if...if Ah see someone...Ah'll ask about it," she nodded slowly.

_Maybe shouldn't have brought it up, she looks embarrassed, but hell, what else we meant to talk about? She's not bein' too social._

"Don't worry about the blinds..." he tried to cheer her up a little and take her mind off of the embarrassing subject. "Least I'll have somethin' to look out of...not that I can see much from here..."

"You can't?" she asked, she frowned a little as she moved to the side of the bed to see if she could look at his view. She took a moment and seemed to agree with the rather bleak look of nothing but darkness outside. Remy turned to look at her curiously as she put her hands on the edge of the bed and pushed. With the sound of the metal feet grinding against the tile floor, the bed shifted easily, as if it weighed nothing at all to her, and it slid along the floor nearer the window to where he could see the view outside, part of the gardens lit up by the outdoor lamps at least. After looking outside, he turned back to her, and gaped.

"You're stronger than you look," he said, quite impressed with this. "Been workin' out, huh?"

"Yeah," she responded in an almost apologetic way as she moved back and headed towards the door.

"Rogue...?"

"Hmm?" she stopped there and looked over her shoulder.

"What happened to you?" he had to ask. Because something clearly _had _happened. She wasn't the same girl, she just _wasn't._

"Everythin' changes, Remy. Everyone evolves," she said, almost in a whisper, and with these words she disappeared leaving him with so many questions, and the loneliness and despair of being bed-ridden.

* * *

**End of Part Three**

* * *

Eep. I had hoped to have this updated sooner but finding the time and indeed, inspiration to get on with the story has been a bit of a struggle. Hopefully you all liked this part, and all I can do is apologise for allowing it to take so long for me to actually upload it. Hope you're all well 3


	4. Part 4

**DARKNESS WITHIN**

**Part Four**

* * *

That night, Rogue dreamt of Remy LeBeau. Unlike every dream she'd had of him since the night she'd put him into the coma, in this dream, he wasn't a lifeless corpse with dead eyes. The world wasn't full of darkness and gloom.

However, there was no colour in this dream either. Everything was just how it looked, the mansion, all of Bayville. But no colour, nothing bright and beautiful about it. It lacked gloom but it lacked the lustre it had always had before.

At first the dream had been a pleasant one, reminding her of the brief days when she and Remy had held onto each other, when he'd felt warm against her, and she'd heard his heart beat beneath the cotton of his t-shirt. Those things were vivid and for the first time in these dark and unhappy months, she'd felt the vaguest sense of belonging again, of being content, and loved and protected. And she'd felt _safe _being with him, she'd felt he was safe too. But then things had quickly changed, and soon in the dream Remy was simply a stranger to her, and a stranger who recoiled from her as she tried to move towards him. He looked at her with a strangers eyes and told her never to touch him again, for she'd ruined his life. She'd stolen his memories, things that belonged to him, that should have been his and that she had no right to do so. In the dream, somehow, his fingers ended up wrapped around her throat, and she was struggling to breathe, choking.

She awoke struggling for the breath she'd struggled for in the dream and still in a daze, she fell off the air mattress with a hard and rather loud thud, and tried to scramble for the nearest escape, still caught in a mix of dream and awake.

"Rogue, calm down!"

The light came on, and she felt Kitty Pryde grabbing her shoulders and trying to pull her away from the door as she struggled to find the handle. Her fist went through the wood and tore the sleeve of her top.

"Rogue, calm down! Breathe!"

Shaking, fingers going numb, she slumped to the floor and curled up, trying to gasp for breath.

"No, sit up straight, come on," Kitty urged.

"Don't touch me!" Rogue managed in between panting breaths.

"Sit up! Paper bag, come on," Kitty said tiredly.

It took several moments before Rogue could pull herself together enough to get up, feeling light headed, she sat on the floor, breathing into the paper bag Kitty provided, her head swimming, face tingling, fingers numb and struggling to hang on to the edges.

She glanced up at Kitty as she sat there hyperventilating into the bag, Kitty looked exhausted, her hair loose and frizzy, her eyes puffy and pink, cheeks ashen, lips dry. This girl hadn't slept well for months, and it was really showing.

_Ah ruined it for her, she'll never have her own room 'cause she has to babysit me because of the suicide-watch thing,_ Rogue thought dully.

Kitty ran her fingers through her slightly tangled hair, sighing tiredly.

"Go back to sleep," Rogue urged when her breath came back. "Ah'll be fine."

"No you won't," Kitty said, sounding slightly irritated.

Rogue rubbed her tired face, it was still tingling horribly. "Ah'm sorry, okay? Ah know it's fucking up your sleep..."

Kitty stood suddenly, looking quite flustered, "it's more than fucking up my sleep, Rogue!" she gasped. "I have gotten all C's this last few months. My grades are slipping _so _horribly, I like...have my teachers bitching at me about how I'm slacking..." she ran her fingers through her hair again, "I'm falling asleep during study hall...during home room...at one point I fell asleep during English and the teacher told me I was _snoring._ It was like...so mortifying..."

"Ah'm sorry!" Rogue gaped at her, feeling horribly guilty and at the same time, incredibly personally attacked. "Ah don't know what else to say! Ah'm not tryin' to screw up your life, I swear...I'm sorry!"

"Don't just say you're sorry, Rogue...just..._do_ something. God, I don't mind being there, I don't mind being the one woken up to take care of every panic attack...'cause I _know _you need someone here, and you're my friend, and I'll _always _be here to take care of my friends but...but..." Kitty drew her breath and tried to recompose herself. "At least show me you're willing to help yourself, that this all isn't for _nothing_!" Kitty paced anxiously. "At least _try."_

"Ah am tryin'..." Rogue blinked.

"No you're _not_!" exclaimed Kitty, "you're just...you're just giving up! Sitting in your room forever, refusing any kind of help, refusing to work at it..."

Rogue pursed her lips tightly, she couldn't deny this.

"Do you want to be on suicide watch for the rest of your life?" Kitty asked, quite seriously, her expression so very suddenly adult. It was as if all the childlike innocence disappeared from her pretty sapphire eyes.

Rogue stared at the floor, tears brimming her eyes, "no."

"Do you want to eat with picnic plates and plastic forks forever?"

"No," Rogue said unhappily.

"Have to have someone stand outside while you shower or go to the bathroom?" Kitty asked. "Do you ever even want to have _privacy_ again?"

Rogue sighed.

"You know," Kitty sighed and sat back down, she folded her arms, "I'm not saying this to be mean...but...if Remy _hadn't_ forgotten everything...and woke up to this..." she nodded in Rogue's direction, "he'd be so...disappointed."

Rogue glanced up at her friend, tears trickled down her face, tickling her tingling cheeks.

"He'd be...just...so horrified...that you've turned into this..." Kitty pointed out.

It felt cruel, these words. Horrible, cruel, angry words.

"Remy would be pissed...that you've just...totally neglected taking care of yourself, and given up..."

"But he's not _Remy _any more," Rogue sniffled, "at least, not the Remy Ah knew..."

"What happens when he _does _get his memories back?" Kitty asked pointedly.

"And what if he _doesn't?!"_ Rogue snapped, tears dripping onto the chest of her pyjama top.

"If it comes to that..." Kitty sighed, "then maybe it's time to just...move _on."_

Rogue didn't want to hear this right now. It was hard enough seeing all the wreckage she'd caused spilling around her but to move on afterwards and _leave _the mess in her wake? It was an impossibility.

Rogue got up slowly, wiping her face on the back of her gloves, "Ah'll sleep downstairs in the rec room," she decided to change the subject quickly. She was sick of dwelling on this. In the past few hours it was _all _she'd thought about.

"No, go back to bed," Kitty commanded, somewhat irritatedly. It was evident that she was too sleep deprived to have the patience for this, and although Rogue was hurt that she was being yelled at and that Kitty's attitude had become so firm and hard, especially after this anxiety attack, she could somehow still understand that it was more than warranted.

"Ah'll be fine," Rogue sniffled, "not like Ah can kill myself anyway, right?"

Kitty gave a sigh, "Rogue, please..."

"Go back to sleep, you should sleep...without bein' woken up by me again..."

Rogue said quietly, she reached for the handle and tentatively pulled, bringing the thing right off the hinges. Rogue lamented and she dropped the door against the wall and sank to her knees and began sobbing. She wasn't even capable of opening a door without tearing it out of the hinges.

"Look, it's fine, it'll be fixed..." Kitty said, moving over, "come on, go back to sleep, just lie down..." she directed her to the air mattress, putting both hands on Rogue's arms.

Rogue shook Kitty off, knocking her down and onto the air mattress, where she bounced and fell over to the other side to the floor with a thud and an 'ow'.

In shock, Rogue gaped down at the girl sprawled out on the floor, one leg hanging over the air mattress awkwardly. "Ah'm sorry..." she stammered as she pushed herself up.

"Look, it's fine, just a bump..." Kitty leaned up awkwardly, rubbing her hurt elbow.

Without waiting to see if Kitty really _was _all right, Rogue took off. She had to get out of this place for the night, to somewhere that she couldn't hurt _anyone, _couldn't break anything_._ She jogged through the mansion and left via the patio door that led from the dining room. The door slid open with an extremely restrained gentle push; thankfully the door had a spring recoil so it couldn't be knocked off the hinges. She slipped out quietly and took off a walk through the dark gardens to the fields beyond. A light rain was drizzling down but she didn't care about it. It felt good to be outside despite her reluctance to be there at all. The world felt oddly bigger, more infinite, since she'd barely been a part of it for so long.

She sat upon the damp grass and stared out at the view from the cliffs on the edge of the estate. The rain began to come down heavier, pelting like cold icy bullets, and the air felt so different to the air inside, so cold and unpredictable, just as her life had become. Regardless of the fast heavy drumming of the rain against her, she felt it somehow soothe her anxiously beating heart into a steady rhythm. She closed her eyes and listened to the rain until the sound changed; the rain was pelting off of something hard.

Sighing, Rogue opened her eyes and turned to look over her should as Logan was approaching under an umbrella, his expression dark and tired.

"You tryin' to catch pneumonia?" Logan asked grumpily as he came to hold the umbrella over her, he stared down at her, looking quite discontent with her behaviour.

"No," she responded quietly. It hadn't crossed her mind that she could perhaps sit outside and try to literally catch her death. She supposed trying to attempt that would be a quite slow process. Suicide she felt should be a fast and relatively painless process, not drawn out.

Or maybe drawn out and painful was deserved? Now that it had been brought up, Rogue had to wonder if she could even get sick in the same ways she used to. She hadn't had a cold in some time although she still did suffer from cramps and headaches. "Kitty woke you?" Rogue asked finally, staring up at him.

"Yeah," he responded.

"Ah should have figured she'd rat me out," Rogue grunted unhappy, wiping the rain from her face.

"She didn't know what else to do, she was worried about you."

"She worries too much," Rogue decided, sweeping her soaked hair from her cheek.

"She wouldn't worry if she didn't _care,_ you know that," Logan reminded, he gave a sigh.

Rogue said nothing, there _was _nothing to say. Kitty did care. In fact, it seemed Kitty cared far more for her well-being than her _own_.

Logan gestured for her to get up, "come on."

Rogue stood slowly, and ducked under the umbrella. They walked slowly, she realised her socks were getting soaked, squelching in the grass. She grimaced.

"Ah feel bad," Rogue admitted after a few moments, as they slowly walked together towards the mansion.

"Oh?" asked Logan, turning to look at her.

"Ah'm screwin' Kitty's life up...her school work is sufferin' cos of me...Ah never even knew...she never said anythin'. She just...let me think everythin' was fine for months...and it hasn't been. It's been buildin' and buildin'..."

Logan listened patiently, holding the umbrella over her more than himself.

"In all the time Ah've known her, Ah've never seen so stressed," Rogue admitted quietly.

"Like I said...she's worried about you," Logan admitted.

"Ah know," Rogue responded solemnly.

"No...you don't," Logan shook his head, "you couldn't possibly understand it. You don't know how it feels to be _afraid _for some one all the time. Every minute you're not under supervision, we're all thinkin' it. Are you all right? Are we going to find you in your room dead, finally succeeded at somethin'?" he explained. "Kitty has that ten fold...she _dreads _comin' home because she's scared what you may have done, you know."

Rogue turned to look at Logan, "she told you that?"

"She told Kurt that in confidence...and Kurt apparently mentioned it to the Professor," Logan explained. "You think you're the only one who suffers bad dreams, Rogue? You don't think she has bad dreams too?"

"That's why she needs her own room. So she can at least get a full night's sleep..."

"You think she'd get a nights sleep bein' in a different room? You don't think somewhere in the back of her mind she'd be afraid you'd still do somethin' because she isn't there?"

"But Ah..." Rogue tried. Logan interrupted.

"Rogue, every time you've tried to hurt yourself...it's been when Kitty's _not_ been there. You got _no _idea how much that can fuck someone up, how _guilty _that can make a person."

Rogue's eyes fell to the dark wet grass, her cheeks felt cold, her blood colder still, she'd never thought of this before. She'd known her panic attacks were taking their toll on Kitty's sleep, but _hadn't_ realised the girl felt guilty about the times she hadn't been there during the suicide attempts. She'd never thought anyone would feel guilty about something she'd tried to do to herself.

"She...really needs a break from me...she needs to be...cut free from the responsibility of havin' to be my keeper, you know?" Rogue tried to be reasonable, more for Kitty's sake than her own.

"You know I ain't got a say 'bout that," Logan reminded. "Even if I did...you're not ready to be alone...you know that."

"Ah don't need to be put on suicide watch any more..." Rogue assured. "Besides...Ah can't kill myself no matter _what _Ah do...and Ah've tried it all."

Logan sighed, "not quite...there's still ways you could do things...and that's why I don't think you can be trusted to be on your own yet," he explained to her softly. "I want to trust you, Rogue, but I know better. My instincts tell me _not _to trust you and my instincts don't usually steer me wrong."

Rogue gave a sigh too, "can't you just give me a chance?"

"You've had chances, stripes, and you blew them all. If I had made ten dollar bets with people that you wouldn't let me down every time I gave you a chance, I'd be a very poor man."

"Give me just _one _more."

"And what would you do, if you had your privacy again?" Logan asked, "you gonna start bucking up? Leaving your room? Getting outside?"

Rogue gestured to the rainy sky, "Ah am out," she pointed out.

"In two days, that's a pretty big step," he supposed.

"This isn't for me, it's for Kitty...Ah'm wreckin' her chances. Her grades are slippin'..." Rogue explained. "She needs time to sleep and take her mind off of my problems...you know?"

"I know," said Logan. "I guess maybe I could sacrifice more time and be with you."

Rogue despaired, the last thing she needed was Logan hanging around her every minute in case she did something stupid. She supposed she only had herself to blame for this though. But she had no intentions currently of trying to snuff herself off the earth right now. At least...not at this moment in time.

"Ah need some time on my own," Rogue stated coolly.

"And I need peace of mind without worrying about what you're going to do to yourself," Logan grunted. "You think Kitty is the only one losing sleep over this?"

Rogue stopped, and looked at him. She hadn't known this. The thought of her mentor, or former mentor rather, having lost sleep over _her_ issues pained her more than she had thought it would. "Ah...Ah'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry, okay?" Logan stopped too, "just stop being sorry for people, and for yourself, and start...fixing this."

Rogue snorted a little, "that's what Kitty suggested too," she looked away sullenly.

"Look," said Logan, he raised the umbrella a little, "I didn't get this old and this ugly without learnin' a few things," he explained, "what I did learn is that feelin' sorry for yourself...it doesn't work."

Rogue thought this a rather hypocritical thing of him to say. "You do it all the time – _and _you get away with it."

"Me?" mused Logan. "I'm ancient, I got nothing but _time _to wallow and gripe and mourn my mistakes. But you? You think you'll be young forever? I'm tellin' ya, it goes by before you know it. Do you wanna be in your thirties or forties and realise you _missed _the best years of your life?"

"How am Ah meant to have the best years of my life like this?" Rogue asked unhappily.

"With work. I didn't say it'd be easy, kid," Logan began walking towards the mansion again. "Didn't say it'd be easy."

* * *

Remy LeBeau was wide awake. There was a horrible feeling of exhaustion that wouldn't leave him. His body ached with tiredness somehow, as if he'd been running, jogging for miles, exercising every muscle. But his mind...his mind felt highly alert and keen. If only his _body_ would comply, then he could at least make it out of bed.

He needed to urinate badly, but was growing sick of the uncomfortable catheter and so he was deliberately holding it in. He'd been hoping for someone to come in and remove it, but so far, there seemed to be some kind of _neglect_ going on. He could only assume that the X-Men were busy people, or that it was far too late at night and that no one was awake to check on him.

_Just need to find the strength to get this thing out myself, _he thought.

Attempting to remove the thing was excruciating, and even managing to pull it out slightly caused him more discomfort than he could have ever imagined. Why anyone would have invented this ungodly thing, he could have never understood. Surely there were better things that could be devised that didn't include ramming a tube up his pride and joy.

Outside, he heard voices, faint, but just distinguishable. That was the thing that told him it was very late, because sound seemed to travel so much better when it was late, or rather early. He leaned up weakly and glanced out of the window, just making out the figures walking together beneath an umbrella. Silhouetted he could tell one of them was Logan, and the other, he felt, due to the lankiness and strange haircut, had to be Rogue.

_Strange time for a midnight rendezvous,_ he decided as he watched, glad that the lights were dim enough in the hospital room that they probably wouldn't be able to see him spying there. _She sleepin' with him maybe?_ Remy pondered.

He supposed if _anyone _was able to sustain the brunt of Rogue's powers enough for any kind of physical relationship, it would probably be the Wolverine. He had that healing factor, so could recover quickly. How much punishment could he take from the girl's power though?

_She'd never sleep with him,_ thought Remy as he watched their slow walk together until they disappeared out of sight. _Even the way she's keepin' her distance from him right now pretty much sums up that she doesn't feel close in that way to him._ He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes, trying to put the full bladder problem to the back of his mind. He wasn't exactly positive how he knew _for sure _that Rogue would _never _sleep with the man, but in his _gut _he just _knew. _All he knew about Rogue had mostly been gleaned from on and off research and stalking at Magneto's whim some time ago. He knew the basics about her, what she liked, what she _didn't_ like. He knew she'd _never _had a boyfriend, and that her closest experience with love was a crush on Scott Summers that hadn't been – and in Remy's own opinion never _would be –_ reciprocated.

Other than the things he'd learned, she was still practically a stranger. The one day they'd spent together when he'd tricked her into helping him was what felt like a recent event but the girl he'd met and spent that day with _then _was _not _the same girl who had come to visit him in this hospital room. She was someone different entirely.

Rogue certainly sounded the same...her eyes were the same shape, her hair was the same colour, and her chin had that strangely attractive dimple in it. She was still pale, with that strange edgy expression. But she was a stranger.

Regardless, he couldn't pinpoint why he knew things about her. Things he couldn't remember learning from his time stalking her. Things he just _couldn't _explain exactly why he knew them. Things he _couldn't _have just magically gleaned from stalking her. Things that almost felt strangely personal.

_Rogue would never sleep with Wolverine...she likes him another way, like a father almost. But how do I know that? When did she tell me that? Why do I feel so fucking _off_ like...like I'm missing something?_

He dozed for a while, in and out of sleep, slightly on edge because of the bladder problem and always aware of where he was, coming to and falling back asleep, the light in the room changing each time he opened his eyes. The sound of footsteps alerted him to full wakefulness and he tried to sit up as he opened his eyes.

It was Kitty Pryde who had stepped into the room, a tray in her hands, the girl looked strangely frazzled, older, pale and tired. This was a girl who had not slept – he knew that look _extremely _well, having kept many a girl up all night himself. Kitty flipped the legs of the large tray down so that it became a makeshift lap table and she put it down over him.

"Morning," was all she said as she raised the plastic lid off of his meal. He gazed down on it to find oatmeal.

"I hate oatmeal," he mumbled disapprovingly at the meal.

"It's good for you," Kitty responded, her voice told him she was on edge, her tone told him that she wasn't in the mood for his defiance to eat.

"Short straw, huh?" he asked of her as he picked up the spoon and pushed the greyish sludge around the bowl unhappily.

Kitty had been on her way towards the door again but she stopped to look at him."Pardon?"

Remy realised she had perhaps thought this was some kind of insult about her height and figure. "Bringing me food. Clearly you drew the short straw," he swirled the spoon around the muck. He didn't feel remotely hungry looking at it. Any appetite he _may _have had was completely negated now.

"There wasn't any short straw. I brought you food because I thought you might be hungry."

"Rough night?" he asked, examining the exhaustion in her face. He put a spoonful of the oatmeal into his mouth. It tasted even worse than it looked. "Who rocked your world?"

Kitty frowned, "I had trouble sleeping is all," Kitty responded, her voice told him how stressed she truly felt at this moment in time.

"Ah, so it's _lack_ of having your world rocked that's the real problem," Remy remarked smugly, trying to ignore how out of place he felt in this hospital room with a tube shoved up him and a heart monitor clipped to his finger.

The petite brunette's mouth hung open a little, she looked almost appalled.

"I got a _real_ good remedy for that you know," he responded, swallowing a little more of the disgusting oatmeal. "It's one of my special talents."

Kitty moved back up to the bed frowning, "now listen here, Remy LeBeau," she began, she pursed her lips and squinted her eyes at him.

He gaped at her, it seemed even _she_ knew his real name. He hadn't quite anticipated this. He had however anticipated her reaction. At least it made for some momentary entertainment to break the monotony of lying motionless with nothing to do.

"You might have been used to getting to talk however you liked when you were working for _Magneto,_" Kitty hissed, "but here, you're in a _school, _full of _under-age_ students!" her eyes dropped down to where the catheter bag was and she grimaced, "one quick pull and things could get _very _painful for you. Do I make myself _clear?"_

He blinked, "blatantly."

"Good. Now be a good little boy and eat your oatmeal."

He watched her leave the room looking even _more _irritated than she had when she'd entered the room. Once she was out of the room, he whistled and said to himself, "PMS."

* * *

**End of Part Four**

* * *

Not a terribly long chapter, but an update nonetheless. Thanks to everyone for their reviews for the last one. Glad to see so many are still around enjoying this story (even though it isn't very far in yet). Can't wait to get some more up hopefully within the week. Have a great November, all 3


	5. Part 5

**DARKNESS WITHIN**

**Part Five**

* * *

For the first time since the incident involving her evolution, Rogue decided this morning she was going to do a laundry, or at least _attempt_ to. She was afraid with the state of her current power strength that she was likely to break the washing machines more than make use of them, but her dirty laundry was piling up as was Kitty's and there was too much the instructors and other students in the mansion had to attend to for them to be expected to handle the stuff.

_ If Ah ever expect to have any privacy again and get Kitty out of the stress of sharin' a room with me, Ah have to make some kind of effort,_ thought Rogue as she collected her laundry in two large bags and left her damaged bedroom with the stuff. Normally, the amount of the laundry would have weighed her down immensely. Most of her own laundry consisted of pyjamas she'd worn over the week, a few towels and a bunch of clean clothes from her dresser that hadn't been worn in months which she'd decided smelled a little musty and needed freshening up. Kitty's laundry on the other hand had piled up dramatically, and took up nearly most of the two bags. The girl had been so busy as of late she'd barely had time to study let alone do her chores. Rogue could only sympathise.

_Ah remember how it was when Ah was at school...hardly time to do anythin' but study and findin' hardly any time to sleep,_ Rogue thought as she effortlessly carried the two bags of laundry to the laundry room in the basement. It occurred to her that the bags normally would have needed to be hauled to the basement with some hard work and grunting, but they seemed to weigh no more than a bag of air. She couldn't decide if this was a perk of her powers or not.

Working the washing machines took some patience. They were new and incredibly touch sensitive barely taking a sweep of the finger to set the wash. She broke the cap of the detergent bottle as she yanked it off and she winced. _ Need to practice control, Rogue,_ she reminded herself unhappily.

"Wow, you're actually doin' somethin'."

Rogue turned and stared towards the stairs where Logan was standing looking somewhat amused, his hair damp from a shower, his face cleanly shaven.

"Kitty hasn't had the time to do her laundry," she tried to explain.

"That's nice of you," said Logan, he sat upon the steps casually, letting his arms rest against his thighs. "It's good to see you out of your room, you know."

Rogue's cheeks heated a little and she stared at the machine as it shook with the effort of the wash. In her mind, she saw Wanda pushed against a similar machine being violently penetrated (much to the girl's apparent delight). The only one in that memory she didn't see was Remy, and that was probably because he was the one doing the penetrating. Now she remembered why she had avoided doing her own laundry since her evolution.

"Somethin' wrong?" asked Logan curiously.

"Just tired," Rogue sighed, "Ah never got back to sleep. Ah tried after Kitty got up but...it just wasn't happenin'," she explained as she tried to force the image of Wanda bent over. Somewhere in that memory, Rogue had even the vaguest sense of how it had felt from Remy's side. So many women would have killed to know _exactly _how sex felt for a man but Rogue didn't want that memory, wanted nothing to do with it.

"Are the nightmares getting worse?"

"No," she replied quietly. She didn't feel like elaborating that they weren't particularly worse but they weren't particularly _better_ either. What they _were _wasdifferent. She didn't really want to talk any more on the subject as it was. She already had too many thoughts and feelings stacking up inside without Logan's adding to them.

"That laundry is gonna take a while, why don't you come out for a bit, get some air. Rain let up."

Rogue shook her head, "Ah don't feel like it."

"Come on, we'll go to that cafe you like and get some food and those fancy six buck coffees."

Rogue couldn't deny she had missed those coffees. And the pecan maple danish from the Bayville Bean Box. She gave a deep sigh; she wasn't sure she wanted to be out yet, she hadn't left the estate in so long and even to venture out would be taking so many huge risks. She was afraid she'd hurt someone. So much could go wrong. Touching a table could break it into pieces with no effort, a door could fly off its hinges. Someone could end up with a broken arm or a broken face merely by bumping into her. There was just so much to consider about being out there. It wasn't safe.

Staring to the floor she shook her head, "maybe another time."

"Oh come on."

"No..." Rogue shook her head, "You don't get it. The world doesn't understand how dangerous I am...anyone could get hurt, no one is gonna be on guard out there."

"Then you don't even have to get out of the car. We could eat in the car, maybe do a drive through thing and park somewhere with a view. Just come out," Logan tried.

"Not yet," Rogue shook her head. "Thanks, but...not now. Ah'm not ready."

"You _will_ be, Rogue. You will get over this hurdle."

Rogue doubted she ever would.

* * *

Remy had finally managed to find the strength to haul himself out of bed. It had taken some extreme effort, left him practically sweating. His body was so incredibly weak and to try and muster up the strength just to get his legs over the side of the bed had taken some work. The catheter still had been uncomfortable, and with some work and grunting in pain, he had finally managed to remove the blasted thing.

One hand against the footboard of the bed, he hauled himself up slowly, legs weak and shaking, aching with the strain of having been unused for months. They near collapsed under him and he dropped back into a sitting position on the bed, gasping for breath, trying to ignore that there was even _more _lingering discomfort now that the catheter was out. Why did it feel like he was _burning_ on the inside?

Wincing, he raised the edge of the plain blue hospital gown he'd been dressed in and stared at his member to see if there was any lasting damage, but he certainly couldn't see any. It felt more inflamed than it looked but the organ seemed physically in tact. _Maybe should have waited for the Beast to remove that tube after all,_ he thought miserably.

"Jesus Christ, Remy. Put that thing away!"

He raised his eyes to the door seeing Rogue standing there with a food tray in her hand. He blinked and dropped the the gown quickly over himself. He didn't usually embarrass easily but his face somehow flushed feverishly hot, and he smoothed the gown down over his thighs and coughed a little, trying to push his shame aside like an unwanted warm soda on a hot day, "sorry."

"You know, if you're gonna jerk off, you could at least wait until it's night time...or at least keep it under the damn blankets and wait for some damn privacy," Rogue uttered nastily at him as she moved towards the bed and put the tray down on the cabinet next to it.

"I wasn't jerking off," he muttered, feeling at least a little glad that she hadn't seemed so shocked by the sight. Perhaps she'd walked in on men doing far worse before? He supposed it was bound to happen at some point in a place full of teenagers.

"Then what? Checking to see if it was still _there_? Not sure if it would have dropped off after three months of not bein' used?"

"I was checking for damage," he leaned back a little.

"Damage?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

"I took the catheter out."

Rogue made a face, "oh."

"It hurt like a bitch. Whoever invented it should have had a spiked one rammed up his own dick for all eternity in hell," he winced as he pulled himself back a little on the bed. "Actually...I bet it was a woman who invented it...had to have been. Who else would wanna inflict that much pain. That thing _reeks _of female vengeance."

Rogue muttered something bitterly under her breath, but he didn't catch it. "You shouldn't be tryin' to get out of bed," she hastily changed the subject.

"I can't just...sit here..." he shook his head. "It's makin' me crazy."

"Ah brought you some food..."

"Is it oatmeal?" he asked, grimacing, remembering the absolutely disgusting breakfast he hadn't been able to eat.

Rogue gestured to the tray, revealing the glass of orange juice and a simple sandwich.

"Thank god," he sighed, "that shit Shadowcat brought me this mornin' was just awful...tasted like wallpaper paste...only with less flavour," he picked up the sandwich and took a large bite.

Nodding, Rogue agreed, "Kitty doesn't really cook or bake very well...oatmeal is about all she's capable of making in the morning..."

"Well I don't do oatmeal..." he sighed after swallowing; to swallow physically hurt. He wondered if this was another side-effect from the coma. Swallowing felt different, uncomfortable, unfamiliar. His eyes carried down to the sandwich in his hands, "how long you think it'll take before it stops hurtin' to swallow?"

"Ah...don't know," she responded sounding awkward, looking upset. Changing the subject, Rogue cleared her throat a little, "are you at least feelin' any better other than the swallowin' thing?"

"No..." he grunted, "I need to piss real bad."

"Then why the hell did you-" she began. He could see she was about to ask the obvious question. Why yank that catheter out if his bladder was screaming like a D-list actress in a slasher flick?

"Because it wasn't comfortable," he remarked quickly, trying to hide his irritation but doing a very poor job of it. "I've been holdin' it in for hours."

"You know that's bad for you, right? You should have just waited for Hank to come and take the thing out. What's so bad about the catheter?"

"I'm not pissin' into a tube anymore, Rogue," he growled, instantly wishing he hadn't sounded so annoyed. He took another bite of the sandwich then put it back down. "I need to get to a normal bathroom."

Rogue stood for a moment, awkwardly hovering.

"You _could..._you know...help me..." he suggested with a grunt as he tried to move again.

"Ah'll get Hank..." she offered.

"No...I'm sick of bein' poked and prodded by him..."

"Then some kind of pee bottle or somethin'..." Rogue glanced around the room helplessly for something. Something in her voice had changed; it was subtle, but he was so good at reading people, at observing them, that he detected it. A note higher in her tone, a certain shakiness, a nervousness.

"Just help me get to the goddamn bathroom..." he pleaded desperately; the bladder was becoming insanely uncomfortable.

"No..." she shook her head, "that'd be...inappropriate..." a nervous laugh escaped her lips, she was walking backwards towards the door slowly, he saw her curling and uncurling her hands awkwardly.

_Why she doin' that?_ He pondered as he glared up at her, "I'm not askin' you to hold my dick while I piss, Rogue. I'm askin' you to help hold me up and walk me there."

"Ah can't do that," she stated quickly and decisively.

"For fucks sake," he muttered angrily, "what's the big deal? You've already seen my dick anyway, all I'm askin' is for a little help here! Jesus, you think I like bein' dependent on other people...? You don't know what this is like..."

It was odd that he thought that he heard her mumble that she did, but it was almost inaudible.

Remy took a moment to try and calm himself down. _Relax, stop freaking at her, it's not her fault you're a prisoner here. Calm yourself, take a breath and ask again nicely. What was it Tante Mattie used to say? You catch more bees with honey than you do with vinegar. _After a moment to try and relax himself and clear his thoughts, he tried again. "Please..." he asked of her more gently this time.

"Ah'm sorry," she shook her head, her voice quivered, "it just...Ah can't..." she moved back, "but Ah'll send down Hank...he'll help..."

As Remy watched Rogue quickly go he was ever aware of how absolutely terrified she'd looked at the suggestion that she help him. Was he _that_ repulsive? With a sigh he lay back against the pillows and glanced at the sandwich she'd brought him. He'd lost his appetite and he pushed it aside and waited in hope Hank would be there fast enough before he ended up urinating in the bed.

* * *

Rogue's fingers were tingling, as they always started to the minute the anxiety begun. She tried as best she could to walk calmly to Hank's private laboratory, all the while wiggling her fingers to try and fight the numbness. Her nose tingled too, and her top lip. Her breath staggered regardless of how hard she tried to control it, and she had to pause outside the lab and force herself to somehow give the illusion of calm before she opened the door only slightly and called out to Hank that Remy needed to pee.

With that, she then darted as quickly as she could towards the foyer and up the stairs towards the closet and hidden staircase to the guest bedroom.

As soon as she'd gotten into the room, she fell to her knees and the hyperventilating began full force. In despair, Rogue curled up on the hardwood floor, gasping sobs escaping as her tears dripped down her nose and splattered onto the varnished wood. Her body shook, limbs tight and numb.

It was barely minutes later that she heard the heavy footsteps running up the stairs that she _knew _belonged to Logan, and she heard him telling her to breathe and then asking her where the paper bag she was _supposed _to always keep by her was. She couldn't remember where it was. She heard him clattering around the messy dressing table where a mix of hers and Kitty's belongings from their own bedroom were sitting; makeup bottles and perfumes getting knocked to the floor, books flipping onto the rug. After what seemed a very _long _thirty seconds, he finally located the bag and he came over, pulled her up into a sitting position and forced her to breathe into the bag.

Sweating profusely, but feeling icy cold at the same time, she did as she was instructed. Her face was still tingling, nerves in her fingers pinging like elastic bands, she gasped into the bag until her breathing began to slow, and her thoughts began to clear again. Logan stayed with her the entire time, his distance restrained although she could see the anxiety and strain in his own expression at having to remain away from her during this difficult moment.

She sat folded legged on the floor, lowering the bag shakily.

"Nine," Logan said, sounding very deflated.

Her eyes shifted to his, lips trembling.

"Nine panic attacks this week. Or is it ten?"

She had lost count. She'd stopped counting when they'd begun to become more and more frequent after the evolution. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she tried clumsily to wipe them away. "Ah stopped countin' long ago," she managed shakily.

Logan was sitting on the floor, he let his back rest against the nearby wall, and pulled one knee up to let his arm rest upon it. "What happened?" he sighed.

"Ah don't know," she shook her head, "Ah just...Ah just..." she rubbed her tingling nose, there was a threat of the attack returning.

"Just take your time," he soothed.

"Ah don't know, all right?" she broke into sobs. "Ah just don't know..."

She knew all too well. The moment Remy had asked for her help it'd been a trigger somehow. She'd felt the warning signs, the tingling, the catching of her breath, the panic spreading through every vein and nerve. Her lungs had seemed almost to lack air.

"You've been to see the Cajun again, ain't you?" Logan asked, his eyes never left hers.

She withheld more sobs, and shifted her gaze to the floor and tried to hold it upon a slight crack in the boards. _Breathe in deep, out slow, breathe in deep, out slow, _she tried to remind herself. Her head swam with the exhaustion that always followed an attack.

"Ah can't..." she tried and her voice cracked, "Ah can't...see him...like that. Ah just...Ah can't see him like that any more..."

Logan studied her, silent.

"He can't even go to the bathroom alone...can barely find the strength to sit up. It hurts him to even eat. He's _scared_, he's hurt...he doesn't know what's goin' on..." she sniffled, "and every time Ah see him...all Ah can think is Ah did that to him...it's _my _fault...it's all my doin'..."

"Rogue," sighed Logan. "Stop torturin' yourself..."

"But it's not just _me _that's bein' tortured with this. Ah didn't listen and not only was _Ah_ punished, but so was he...it's not...it's not fair..."

Logan snorted, "life ain't fair, kid. We all just gotta do the best with what we got and find a way to move on."

Rogue pulled herself awkwardly up and moved towards the window to stare outside at the early afternoon sky. It'd turned nastily grey rather fast. Typical February weather in Bayville.

"What's done is done. Other than the fact he's lost some memories, he'll recover," Logan explained. "And the memories he lost..._most_ of it wasn't the most pleasant of stuff from what I can gather."

_Even the ones of me,_ Rogue thought. "Ah suppose...he's better off," she faked a shrug and she wiped her face on her sleeve, "but...he'll never understand why. And how can we _ever _tell him...?"

"Maybe we just shouldn't," suggested Logan, he pulled himself up with a grunt. "Maybe he's better off not knowing."

"Someone will spill eventually," Rogue reasoned, holding back more sobs, "he'll eventually run into Magneto or Piotr...or even Wanda...you think somethin' like that ain't gonna come up eventually? It'll all come out at some point. What then?"

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Logan replied gruffly.

Rogue hugged herself and sighed, "Ah can't go back down there again...Ah should never have been there in the first place."

"You think it was too soon?" asked Logan, his expression dull. To the untrained eye, he would have seemed simply apathetic, but Rogue saw the concern there. Perhaps she'd grown too close to him over the past few years, or perhaps it was just that she'd absorbed him so many times that now she knew him more than most did.

Pushing aside these thoughts, she gave a slight nod, eyes staring into space.

"It's been three months. You've been _mourning_ him for three months, and he _didn't_ die. Mourning at this point is pointless, so..maybe it's time to just..." he trailed off, seeming to be looking for a suggestion.

"Just what?"

"Just _rip off the bandaid_..."

"And expose the raw wound?" she gave an ironic laugh. Even metaphorically, this sounded horribly painful to endure. _Ah'm not like Wanda, _thought Rogue. _Ah don't want to be in pain._

"Can't keep a wound under cotton padding forever, stripes. Sometimes you gotta let the air get to it."

"So you think Ah should just...keep goin' down there, even though it hurts, even though it's going to make things worse?" she asked. "That's crazy..." she shook her head.

"Think about it, Rogue," Logan suggested.

Rogue was convinced there was very little to think about. Rushing into this right now seemed too reckless, she'd already been hurt, and she was afraid of hurting Remy in the process. The last time she'd rushed into a decision that was _supposed_ to be for her own benefit, it'd ended up in her nearly killing Remy LeBeau and losing her freedom, not to mention caused several people at the institute stress in the process. "No..." she shook her head, "Ah need to keep my distance...it's the only way things will work out. It's the _only _way Ah know he'll recover."

"If you say so."

* * *

Remy felt incredibly humiliated. Having to be taken to the bathroom by Hank McCoy felt like some kind of punishment chaperone, it made him feel like a child who couldn't even be trusted to pee without supervision.

Of course, at this stage, there was very little choice in the matter. He wasn't strong enough to walk to the bathroom alone just yet, and it was this or go back to using a catheter or asking for a bottle or a bed pan. He supposed being practically _carried_ to the bathroom was the less humiliating out of the three.

Having to urinate in front of the man was incredibly uncomfortable despite Hank was polite enough to keep his head turned during the act and was tolerant enough to put up with the expletives Remy hissed at the horrific stinging the catheter had left him with. At least the Beast was patient enough to wait for the extensive time it took Remy to wash his hands and dry them as the exhaustion continued to settle in again.

When he was returned to the hospital room, he found that the sheets had been changed. Jean Grey was on hand, her long red hair in a braid that hung over one shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" Jean asked softly, her green eyes shifted to him for a moment, her pink lips pulled into a kind smile; she bent over to pick up laundry basket on the floor with the old sheets and Remy took a moment to glance down her collar as Hank walked him around to the bed

"Like shit," he uttered miserably; as Jean leaned down the loose collar of her blouse fell quite a bit away from her and revealed more of her cleavage than he'd expected. He saw the lace bra she was wearing and the tiniest hint of a tan line. The sight _should _have stirred him.

It should have. In fact, upon reflection, Remy realised with some dismay that since he'd come to yesterday morning...he had not had a single erection. This was highly unusual for him. He winced with the thought perhaps the catheter had damaged something. _Maybe I'm just paranoid,_ he tried to suggest to himself.

Jean stood straight, she caught him looking, he noticed her cheeks turned as pink as the lace bra beneath that blouse, her brows furrowed.

Perhaps it was just the frustration with his entire situation that made him respond smugly with, "nice tits."

Her face now turned to scarlet, her hair envying the red of her cheeks. Hank gaped between them both. Jean almost dropped the basket, then composed herself quickly, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly frowned at him but said nothing, she stormed out of the room.

"That was highly...inappropriate," said Hank disapprovingly as he helped Remy into the bed.

Remy shrugged a litte as he leaned back against the pillows, he suppressed a sigh, "don't tell me you've never noticed how nice those tits are."

"I don't make a habit of looking down the shirt of every woman I come across," Hank responded as he pulled the covers over Remy.

"If you're coming across them, probably don't want them to have shirts on at all. In my experience, jizz stains fairly good."

Hank's face darkened, "is there some reason you're being obnoxiously crude?" he asked, sounding suddenly quite irritable.

"Can't say there is," Remy closed his eyes, "was just an observation, is all."

"Keep your observations to yourself in future," Hank warned him. "Not every young woman in this institute is capable of restraining themselves from slapping...or using their powers on someone who offends them."

"I'll keep that in mind," Remy opened his eyes again, "why did she bend down to pick that stupid basket up anyway? I've seen the things she can do with her mind...she could have used her powers. If you ask me, she did that deliberately so I _could_ look at her tits. Why else would she have walked away without slappin' me?" he asked smugly.

"We prefer not to use our powers for _every _simple task in this institute," explained Hank.

"I thought the point of this place was to practice your powers," Remy scoffed.

"There is a time and a place to do so," Hank responded.

"Whatever," said Remy, growing bored with the conversation already, and eager to change the subject. "What's wrong with Rogue, anyway?" he asked.

"Pardon?" asked Hank, his expression changed so very quickly, there was something Remy found oddly suspicious about that.

"Rogue. She's...not like herself. Not like she was. Clearly I've been out of it a while but _somethin'_ happened to her."

"What makes you think that?"

"She looks different...acts different...even the way she _sounds..."_

_ "_How do you mean?"

"Somethin' in her voice, I guess," Remy replied, he looked away, "like...she's a robot. I don't know how else to put it."

"I think perhaps you're over-analysing," Hank responded quietly, "Rogue is fine."

Remy read the beast's expression. It spoke volumes. There was nothing _fine_ about Rogue. Something was wrong with her, and whatever it was, it was clearly not to be discussed.

_Why do I even care? I got more important things to worry about right now,_ Remy decided. "How long before I can get out of this place anyway?"

"Not until your strength returns – and you've completed some physical therapy. We should start that tomorrow, it will help," explained Hank, he helped adjust Remy's pillows. "Why are you so eager to leave?"

"I don't really belong here," Remy shrugged, "me and the X-Men aren't exactly the same type of people."

"The X-Men don't have a _type_, Remy. All are welcome here..."

"Long as they behave how you want," Remy scoffed.

"Is there somewhere you could go if you _were _permitted to leave?" asked Hank carefully.

Remy stared at the beast, "that your _polite_ way of suggestin' that I'm a prisoner here?" he asked.

"Of course not. You're far from a prisoner. We're merely taking precautions and taking care of you."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," said Remy coldly, staring to the floor.

"I see," said Hank, which immediately made Remy feel foolish. If he hadn't needed anyone to take care of him, he supposed he wouldn't have had to have Hank take him to the bathroom only minutes ago.

"Why make so much effort to take care of me, anyway? Ain't your fault I fell into a coma, is it?"

"No one is at fault," Hank responded, "rest now, you look exhausted."

Remy couldn't deny he felt it. He'd been feeling it since the moment he'd awakened. "Why is that anyway?" he sighed, "how can someone be in a coma for twelve weeks and _still _be exhausted? I feel so drained all the time."

Why was it Hank seemed so worried about this particular question? What was about it that made that expression appear on that furry face? "You need as much rest as you can to gain back that energy. Being comatose doesn't necessarily mean you are _sleeping_ as you would in a normal state."

"You never see this crap in the TV shows when someone wakes up from a coma," Remy scratched his cheek weakly, "they don't tell you it's gonna _sting_ when you piss or that your stomach is gonna be upset all the goddamn time or that you're gonna have bedsores on your ass," he winced as he slightly shifted, the bedsores hurt immensely.

"Believe it or not," chuckled Hank, "television and real life are _very_ different."

Remy snorted, "no shit."

* * *

**End of Part Five**

* * *

**Another short chapter but hopefully it's carrying the story along a bit. Hopefully you're all enjoying what's down so far. Thanks so much for the reviews, the adding to favourites and the support and encouragement everyone has given between Magnetic Attraction and this. It makes it such a joy to write these stories. 3**


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